Of Secrets And Santas
by Radical Liar
Summary: She deserved better than that.  Flowers, dinner and a movie and all that crap... proper date and all…
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: A few things need to be said before I send this story on its way:_

_1) This is quite possibly the latest entry for a fic challenge ever. LOL I wrote this story for jojo140 as part of the Secret Santa Fic Challenge last Christmas but never published it. A Happy International Democracy Day - or so Wikipedia tells me we celebrate today. :-)_

_2) When I wrote this story last December, I'd grown increasingly frustrated with the way Cal's character had been developed on the show. I felt that if the writers on the show can completely refurbish their main character, then hell I can take him out for a test spin and toy with him. As a result, to some Cal may seem a bit out of characters in this story. I'm pushing him to the limits - not so much in a dramatic fashion, more in a comic way. Just how far would Cal Lightman go, if push came to shove, and he realised he's about to lose Gillian forever. Would he be able to make the ultimate sacrifice, if confronted with the reality that Gillian could leave him for good? What would it take for him to turn around and could he, if faced to put all his eggs in one basket?_

_3) This story does not fit the canon developed by the writers post Christmas break, as I wrote it before the final episodes aired._

* * *

><p>Emily stood in the living room glaring at her father who was typing away on his book as he'd been doing for the most part of the last few months. After all, she'd made sure he did. She didn't know the whole story but she'd caught on to the fact that <em>The Lightman Group<em> would be in dire financial needs if he didn't finish this book by the end of the year. That being said, Thanksgiving had come and gone and Christmas was fast approaching and they needed to get a start on the presents.

"Did you need anything?" Cal glanced up after Emily gave him the silent treatment for five minutes.

"You know very well what I want." Cal rolled his eyes, reached into his pockets for the car keys and tossed them half across the room. Emily caught them easily but didn't budge an inch.

"I'm busy, Em, can't you see? Have fun."

"_Dad_! Come on, you need a break. You can't write all day."

"Excuse me? Weren't you the one who took my bloody laptop away and essentially chained me to this bleeding typewriter?"

"Yes and you've been a good boy so now Santa rewards you with a little break."

"I don't think driving you to the mall counts as a reward and it was definitely not on my Christmas list. What's the point of you having a driver's license if you still need me to chauffeur you around?"

"Dad, the later you put off getting gifts, the worse it will get. Don't use your book as an excuse to avoid going to the mall with me to get our Christmas shopping done."

"Haven't we agreed on gift cards two years ago after that whole Christmas sweater disaster?" Cal looked at her hopefully.

"Yes, _we_ did… _but_ you still have to find something for your Secret Santa."

Cal's only reaction was a drawn out groan. "A bottle of Scotch will do for Torres. She and Foster apparently like to raid my stash at work."

Emily gasped inwardly. How was that possible? It wasn't period. Either he knew what she'd done and tested her or he'd traded names with someone else. Was he capable of reading it on her face that she'd rigged the game? He couldn't possibly know that she came to him first with a hat full of Gillian's name slips. Once he'd drawn, she filled the hat with the real names. She decided to reproach him in a neutral way for his behaviour without giving herself away. She just needed to work harder on him to go to the mall and find a nice present for Gillian.

"Dad! It's supposed to be secret and you're supposed to put in some effort into getting the person you drew a nice gift!" Emily scolded him and then added, "Besides, we're not going shopping for Torres today, either."

"We're not?" Cal started to wrap up; he knew when it was a lost cause to fight his daughter because she'd set her mind to something. She got that from her mother. "Whom are we shopping for then? Your mum and I agreed not to exchange gifts anymore."

"Gillian." Emily simply stated and Cal dropped the print out of the journal article he'd been reading, sending sheets of paper flying across the room.

"Come again?" He glanced over his shoulder while he bent to retrieve the papers and stack them back in order into a neat pile on his desk and put a clip on it to avoid a repeat performance. "Why would I brave the shopping mall to buy Foster a gift? I'll just order another romance novel from Amazon like last year and the ye…" Cal stopped and trailed off. That sounded horrible when he said it out loud.

Sure he didn't really care all that much about finding the perfect Christmas gift for everyone like his daughter did but sending Foster a new romance novel randomly was beyond thoughtless even for him. While he didn't wander around the malls for days on a quest for the perfect gift, he did try to put some thought into his picks. After all, he knew he was not the greatest with words and sometimes actions spoke louder than words. Except…when you order a random novel from Amazon it practically screamed, 'I don't really appreciate you in my life anymore'. His mask slipped just long enough for his daughter to spy the crestfallen look on his face.

"My point exactly, dad. This year needs to be different. She didn't say anything last Christmas but I know for a fact that the book you gave her – she'd read it before. And you have heaps to make up for to Gillian this year. More than a random book could ever represent."

"Oi! What do _you_ know about my relationship with Foster? We're fine."

"Dad! You guys are not fine. I know you think I'm still a child but I notice things…and you and Gillian have been fighting a lot more these days. I don't know why or what happened but you didn't invite her for Thanksgiving left over lunch on Black Friday."

"Foster had already made plans!" Cal defended himself.

"And why do you think that is? Because she doesn't want to be around you! And quite frankly that sucks, dad, because, in the course, she's not around me anymore, either. And I hate that 'cos I like having Gillian around because she makes us happy. She used to make _you_ happy. Holidays with Gill are fun and I thought we were starting a new Black Friday tradition last year but of course you go and screw it up, dad!"

"Whoa. Language, young lady." Cal pointed his index finger at his daughter in a warning, then dropped his body posture. "I didn't know you were so upset about this."

Emily shrugged her shoulders sheepishly, "I didn't know either until now. Dad, we can't lose Gillian. She's _really_ really good for us, for you. Don't think I haven't noticed how much grumpier you've been the past weeks."

"That's because I have to write this bloody book and you took away my toys and grounded me on the weekends." Cal quipped.

Emily shot him a dirty look.

"Alright, alright. I admit I miss hanging out with Foster. But Emily, sometimes things between adults get complicated and it takes a while for everything to return back to normal."

"Dad, I don't care what you did but I want you to fix it."

"Me? I didn't do anything. Foster can't keep her nose in her own bloody business and out of mine."

"Dad, I hate to tell you this but: Your business _is_ Gillian's business. That's the very definition of equity partner. I learned that in Economics."

"You did that, eh? What else did you learn in school this year?" Cal tried a little deflection but Emily wouldn't go for it.

"That if we don't get a going soon, the mall will close and all the good gifts will be gone and you end up giving Gillian a self-made paper snowflake." Emily quipped.

Cal put his arm around his daughter and explained, "That was a very special snowflake, love. I brought it with me all the way from Afghanistan. It was made by the troops there. And it's not like I had time to go Christmas shopping last year."

"I know dad, which is why we're going early this time lest you disappear to another war zone next week again to get out of it." With that Emily grabbed her father's coat off the hanger and held it out for him. Cal rolled his eyes and slipped his arms into the sleeves. He reached for his gloves and let Emily wrap the scarf around his neck.

"Thank you, now give me back my keys." Cal held out his hand.

"Too late, dad. I'm driving." Emily flashed him her brightest smile and turned around on her heels. Cal groaned and mumbled something about his insurance premium going up again.

0~0~0~0~0

Cal Lightman had never been so lost in his entire life. He was standing in the middle of the shopping mall, praying to be struck down by lightning just so he'd have an excuse to go home. He had spent the better part of the morning racking his brain about what Gillian would like. Now he was supposed to meet his daughter in the food court to replenish his reserves. He was just about to call her on her cell when he spotted her browsing through the CD section of the record and movie store down the aisle from Mc Donald's.

"Did you get everything you wanted?" He asked casually as he came to a stop next to her and glanced over the CD covers.

"Almost. I still need to find something for Liam. What about you? Any luck yet?"

Cal shook his head, "Haven't found the right thing yet."

Emily nodded in understanding, "Maybe you're looking for the wrong thing?"

Cal shrugged his shoulders, "I'm beginning to fear I don't know Foster anymore at all."

"Well, what have you thought about so far?"

"Sears has a smoothie maker on sale." Cal quipped and earned himself a condescending look from his daughter.

"That's the best you can do?"

"Well, I've considered signing her up for a chocolate lover of the month tester programme at the chocolate shop around the corner."

"They do that?" Emily asked astonished. Now _that_ would be something she'd love, too.

"Nope."

"So?"

"Then I realised I haven't seen Foster eating anything sugary in weeks, if not months. When did she have her sweet tooth pulled?" Cal looked at Emily as if she of all people would know the answer.

"I don't know!" Emily shook her head and then added, "Really not even a slushie?"

Now it was Cal's turn to shake his head.

"That is bad. What did you say to her?"

"Nothing!"

"Dad! Come on."

"No really, I haven't even teased her about her future as a drug tester for diabetes meds."

"Do you think she might be sick?" Emily's face flashed a prime example for fear and concern.

"Nah, she would've told me", Cal put his arm reassuringly around his daughter's shoulders, thinking, _Well, at least I hope she would._

Emily glared at him in disbelief, "Dad, you really need to patch things up between you and Gillian. She needs us as much as we do her. What _if_ she gets sick and doesn't tell us? She no longer has Alec and her parents live so far away."

"I'm sure she has friends outside the firm", Cal shot her a shut up look and changed the subject instead, "What are you looking for?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, Liam's got a very eclectic taste – I'm trying to surprise him with a good band he doesn't know yet or find an album he's always wanted."

Cal nodded and wondered what kind of music Gillian preferred? She'd always been into jazz; lately she seemed to really enjoy the crooners. He thought back to their little tipsy dance on their balcony. Maybe he should get her a CD with Frank Sinatra? But which one? He didn't want to commit the same faux pas as last year with the book.

"Are you thinking about buying Gillian a CD?" Emily inquired curiously.

"Maybe, but I don't want to give her one she already has."

Emily nodded understandingly, "Guess you're in the same shoes as I am with Liam."

Cal sighed and wandered off browsing through the different genres. Personally he still preferred the good old-fashioned vinyl albums. There was just something exciting about pulling the black disc out of its paper sleeve, placing it neatly on the player and then carefully positioning the needle. Like an art form. And the sound! The sound was so much better in his opinion. Gillian had laughed at him and explained that the untrained human ear could hardly make out the loss in quality from analogue to digital recordings and bought the CD players instead of the record player for their offices.

0~0~0

"_Why the sad look?" Cal asked as he passed Gillian's new office on his way home._

"_It's nothing," Gillian shrugged her shoulders, "have a good night, Cal. Say hi to Emily and Zoe for me."_

"_Will do, but only after you tell me what's making you so sad", he insisted._

"_It's nothing really, go home", Gillian shook her head emphatically and added, "If you continue at this pace you'll erase the line before we have a chance to draw it."_

_Cal looked at her flabbergasted, "You seriously expect me not to say anything when I see a sad face on you? Or disappointment? Love, I can take anger, happiness and maybe even worry but you can't expect me to ignore fear, sadness and disappointment."_

_Gillian sighed, "It's silly. You'll only laugh."_

"_Try me."_

"_I lost the music box."_

"_The music box?" He didn't even know she had one. He looked around her new office as if he could magically conjure up the lost item. "What does it look like? My mum had one with a ballerina."_

"_No, I mean you didn't see a box labelled music, did you?" Gillian suddenly perked up, "Maybe it got switched in the move and ended up in your office? Did you come across a box full of CDs?"_

_Cal loathed disappointing her, "Sorry love, but I didn't see it. Maybe it's with the other unopened boxes in the storage room?"_

"_No, I already checked. It's not important anyway. The CDs are replaceable."_

_Cal nodded, "I'm sure we'll find it. Have a good night."_

"_You, too. See you bright and early." Gillian smiled and Cal groaned when she reminded him about their first appointment in their brand new company space._

0~0~0

"Found something?" Emily met her father and followed his stare at an album cover with curious eyes, "Who the hell is Cannonball Adderley?"

"Huh?" Cal turned around surprised to find his daughter standing next to him.

"I asked whether you found an album for Gillian?"

Cal sighed, "No, unfortunately I don't know the title. Remember when Foster's CD box got lost in the move to the office?"

"Oh yeah, she really loved those." Then she broke out into a giggle, "I thought that was very funny how you interrogated the movers as if they were terrorists in our kitchen."

"They lost Foster's music!" Cal was still indignant about their incompetence. "I wasn't about to let them get away with that. Plus, I thought it couldn't hurt to give them a lecture before they moved my research material from our basement to my new office."

"Yep, I'm sure that's what it was." Her father could try as he might to hide his soft spot for Gillian but it was sometimes so obvious that he loved her.

"You don't remember what the song or album was called, do you?"

"The jazzy one with the trumpet?" Emily shook her head, "No, sorry, but wait." She dashed off and returned a minute later with a young boy hanging on her arm.

"Dad, this is Evan. Evan, my dad." She introduced them. Evan beamed all over his face looking at Emily but his face fell immediately when he met Cal's indifferent glare.

"Sir! Emily told me you were looking for a jazz album but don't remember the title?"

"Err…yes…but I'm afraid I won't be of much help, all I remember is that it had horns and sounded like a cross between bebop and cool jazz to my ears."

"Mhm", Evan nodded and looked through the albums, "We've got a few albums here; maybe you recognise the cover. I could also set up a listening station for you, maybe you'll recognise a song or two."

"That's very nice of you, _Evan_" Cal thanked the boy and sent Emily a disapproving look once Evan disappeared with a stack of CDs in the direction of the counter.

"What?"

"Does Liam know you flirt with strangers in the record store while you pick his gift out?"

Emily rolled her eyes, "Evan goes to my school. So what if he has a little crush on me and I milk it a little for employee discount at the store? He knows I'm with Liam."

Cal gaped. "I liked you better when you were a little girl with pony tails."

"Oh please, dad. Everyone does it. Now hurry, we don't have all day. You take half the albums, I take the other half."

Emily and Cal listened to over a dozen CDs without any luck. Evan looked crestfallen that he was not able to help Emily's father and impress her.

"Perhaps you could sing the tune and I could order the album for you?" Evan offered as a last resort.

"I beg your pardon?" Cal looked at the boy as if he'd just grown a second head.

"I'm a huge jazz aficionado myself." He added as a way of explanation.

"No, I get that but…"

"Yes, dad! Sing for Evan. He knows just about every song out there." Emily nodded and shook her father's shoulder. Evan's chest puffed out a little in pride at Emily's words.

Cal gave her a look that said she was insane and that he was going to kill her if she didn't shut up, own flesh and blood or not. Then he turned back to Evan and refused politely.

"Come on, dad. You can hum. No one will hear. How did it go?" Emily started to hum but then stopped and looked at her father for help.

"Oh for Christ's sake" Cal groaned and then continued where Emily left off – terribly off key and completely out of tune. Emily beamed. He'd only make a fool out of himself for Gillian. Evan's smile and face fell when he realised the father daughter duo would be of absolutely no help whatsoever in locating the mysterious album.

When Cal finished he looked at the boy expectantly and then broke out into laughter when Evan struggled to find the right words. "Save it, son, I know it was horrible. Thanks for your help and time."

Cal turned around to leave and Evan sputtered unintelligible syllables trying to recover. Emily leaned over the counter, "I told you he reads faces. Don't worry, you didn't really offend him. Thanks anyway."

When Emily turned around to catch up with her father she found him in a stare down with another man, "Eli!"

Cal cocked his head sideways and gave his employee a once over.

"Emily! How nice to run into you guys here." Eli tried to appear nonchalant about their encounter but obviously looked just as uncomfortable as Cal to be caught in this situation.

"What are you doing here?" Emily asked him, "Duh! Shopping of course. What did you get?"

"Nothing!" Eli suddenly blurted and Emily and Cal could see him trying to hide a couple of DVDs better behind his back.

"Did you buy children's Christmas movies on sale again, Loker?" Cal couldn't resist teasing him.

"_The Grinch_? _Scrooge_? And _Christmas Story_? Boy, are you disillusioned for Christmas this year." Emily blurted out.

" 'Tis the season to be jolly…" Cal quipped sarcastically.

Eli shook his head and then grinned mischievously, "At least I didn't have to sing in order to find them."

Emily suppressed a giggle and prepared for the worst. If her father were prone to blushing with embarrassment, he probably would have turned six different shades of red.

"If you…" Cal stepped into Loker's personal space and threatened him with his finger, "so much as breathe a word of this to anyone…so help me God!"

Eli just smiled knowingly, "Wouldn't dream of it." He stepped out of the way to let Emily and Cal pass, "Have a nice day you two."

"Thank you, Eli, you too", Emily grabbed Cal's hand who was about to say something else and pulled her father past Loker.

"What was that?" Emily asked once they were out of earshot.

"I believe that was what is called a Loker. It appears at the most inopportune of times, never knows when to keep its mouth shut and generally makes it a habit to annoy you." Cal put on his lecture voice.

Emily giggled and scolded her father, elbowing his side softly, "You're incorrigible."

"Thank you very much!" Cal glanced at his daughter who suddenly reminded him a whole lot of his business partner.


	2. Chapter 2

"So if you were Foster, what would you like for Christmas?" Cal glanced sideways at his daughter as they strolled through the mall after their lunch break.

"I don't know. Something pretty. Nothing flashy."

"Classy, huh?"

Emily looked at her father with a frown, when she saw the far away dreamy look he had on his face. "I suppose so, yeah."

"Ok. So what are we talking about now? Potted plants, deco stuff, jewellery?"

Emily frowned, "Jewellery? Just _how bad_ are things between you and Gill really?"

"Not jewellery, then, ok."

"It doesn't matter _what_ you get her, dad, as long as it comes from the heart. Don't just pick the most expensive and most exquisite thing because you have a guilty conscience."

"Gillian will see right through that." Cal nodded in agreement, tacitly acknowledging he _had_ a guilty conscience.

"Mhm, the most important thing is to pick something meaningful so she knows you care about her feelings. Something that has meaning for both of you, like a connection..."

"Em!" Cal's voice held a warning tone.

"Sorry, dad, but Gillian is so much better for you than _Shazzer_ can ever be. One day you will see it, too."

"We're not having this discussion again. Period." Cal said firmly only to find out that his daughter had stopped at a window of a very posh boutique to gaze at a dress.

"Isn't it a bit early to shop for your prom dress already?" He asked when he walked up next to her.

Emily shrugged his shoulders, "Mom said I could go to junior prom this year."

"What's wrong with the dress you bought for the last dance?"

Emily gasped in shock, "Dad! I can't be seen wearing the same dress for junior prom! I would fall off the social ladder into the abyss of high school oblivion."

"I see. We can't have that, now can we? Which one do you like?"

"This one", Emily pointed at a red and black dress.

"It's pretty. Come on, let's go inside so you can try it on."

"I know what you're doing dad. You can't put off buying a gift for Gillian forever."

"Can't a father buy his daughter a nice Christmas gift?"

"What happened to the gift cards?"

Cal shrugged his shoulders, "We can always fall back on that if the dress doesn't fit, now shoo…" He stepped behind her and pushed her slowly to the entrance.

0~0~0~0~0

"No! Abso-bloody-lutely not." Cal's eyes widened in shock, "Take it off."

"Dad!"

"NOW!" He growled.

"But, dad!"

"You're not leaving my house in that attire!" He insisted and crossed his arms.

"Fine! I'll put it on at mom's then," Emily rolled her eyes at her father who scowled. "Dad, it's a formal dress! Of course, it has some cleavage. Would you rather I wear a potato sack to junior prom?" When Cal opened his mouth, she quickly added, "Never mind, don't answer that."

Cal closed his mouth and glared at his daughter until she sighed in defeat and slumped her shoulders. How they could call this still a dress was beyond him. It showed more skin than it attempted to cover.

"I think I have another dress that would look just perfect on you, Miss." The sales assistant exchanged looks between daughter and father before she excused herself to get the other dress. A minute later she returned with three dresses, one in purple, another red one, and one in blue with pink accents.

"Purple is _the_ colour this year," she explained to Emily and Cal who just shrugged his shoulders to indicate he couldn't care less. Emily took the offered robes and disappeared into the cabin to try them on.

All of a sudden Cal had an idea. _"I like wearing pink because it makes me happy and I haven't been happy in years."_ Gillian's words echoed through his head as Cal started to browse through racks of dresses. This was it. He'd buy Gillian a nice dress, take her out to dinner at one of her favourite elegant restaurants, and buy her the sweetest desert on the menu to show her he cared enough about her to actually pay attention to what she is saying.

"Sir, can I help you?" Another sales clerk picked up on Cal's distress and snuck up behind him.

"Yes, I need pink!" Cal blurted out slightly startled. The blonde woman who'd offered to help suppressed a chuckle. Desperate husbands shopping for their wives were always a nervous hoot.

"Did you want something casual or formal?" She inquired as she walked Cal over to a different section.

"Formal."

"Alright, measurements?"

"I think she's 5'5 maybe 5'6." Cal gave a puzzled frown and raised his arm to indicate the appropriate height.

The woman chuckled, "No sir I meant your wife's breast, hip and waist circumference to help pick a size."

"Oh! Well, she's not my wife, she's my…" Cal struggled for the right words, "and I don't know she's…" he pondered how to describe Gillian's figure with and without using his hands and capitulated, "You know what? Never mind. She likes to read; a book will do fine. Thanks for your help." Did he just feel flushed? "Oi! Em! Where are you?" Cal called out and scurried back to his daughter, leaving a flabbergasted sale assistant behind.

"Where've you been, dad?" Emily appeared out of nowhere in the blue dress. "What do you think?" She turned around to show off the gown she was wearing. "I didn't like the other red one and the purple one didn't fit." She explained.

Cal nodded his head, "Much better than the previous one."

"And it is a much better quality." Emily's original sales assistant snuck up behind Cal and almost gave him another heart attack. Why did they keep doing that? "Your daughter couldn't have made a better choice."

Cal was about to nod but then squinted his eyes. "Yeah, I don't think so. Take off the dress, love, we're leaving."

"But dad, I really like it." Emily protested.

"I have to agree, sir, this dress looks perfect on your little girl", the sales assistant gave a saccharine smile. Assuming that Cal wanted to barter the price a little, she added, "I might be able to offer a bit of a holiday discount on this one." She'd still get the commission for selling the dress, even if it was 10% off.

"Trust me, Emily, we'll find an even better one. She's lying, she doesn't really think it looks perfect on you."

"Sir, I beg your pardon", the sales clerk interrupted him but Cal held up his hand. Emily glanced between the two adults then retreated to the cabin to change back into her casual clothes. When she re-emerged, the adults were still arguing about the sale. The assistant spotted Emily and tried her last tactic, "Sir, I really think we should let your daughter decide, after all, she'll be the one wearing that dress."

Cal grinned and looked at Emily, "What do you think, love?"

"I think I'll go with my dad's better judgment."

"You heard her", Cal inclined his head toward the doors and took off in the same direction, "Let's go."

"Miss, I'm not lying the dress does really look good on you." The assistant put her arms on Emily's shoulder in a last attempt to make the sale. "Your father doesn't strike me as the type who knows a great deal about fashion."

Now Emily looked to her father one more time, wearing a washed-out shirt and mismatched jeans and then grinned, "Maybe. Probably. No definitely. But he can spot a liar ten miles away, ma'am, 'cos he's a human lie detector."

0~0~0~0~0

When she caught up with her father, she found him examining a set of framed butterflies in the window of a home décor store.

"Oooooh, they're beautiful and so colourful!" Emily exclaimed excited.

"They're lovely but they're not the right ones." Cal mumbled.

"Hm?" Emily looked curiously at her father. "I think Gillian would like them. In fact, I think she never got around to finishing decorating her new townhouse after her divorce."

"I know", Cal agreed, "let's go inside and see if they have any Monarchs."

Emily nodded and they walked into the store, looking around for more butterfly casings. Emily pointed to another colourful set but Cal shook his head and insisted they needed a Monarch. Together they searched through the stacks of framed butterflies patiently.

"Oh, I've got a set of Viceroys", Emily pulled a frame out and held it up for her father to inspect.

Cal shook his head, "No. I need a _Monarch_."

"Does it have to be a Monarch? There are no Monarchs in this stack, Dad. Besides, they look just the same anyway."

"No, they don't. One is imitating the other..." Cal explained and went into the same spiel he'd given Torres a few months ago. Emily listened stoically but couldn't bite back a smile. Oh her father had it sooo bad. In a way it was adorable that he indirectly likened Gillian to a Monarch and refused to degrade her to Viceroy and Monarch wanna-be. "… What kind of message would I be sending if I got her the second best thing. 'Here you go, love, you'll always just be a cheap imitation?' No, no, no. Monarch it has to be."

Once Cal finished with his explanation, she just replied, "First of all, dad. I know. Remember we did the science project together in third grade. Second, we learned in biology last year that both Viceroy and Monarch are actually poisonous. So there must be another reason for the mimicry. Maybe the Monarch is copying the Viceroy – who knows?"

"Oh!" Cal blurted in surprise, "Well then I suppose we should nix the whole butterfly idea if we don't know which one's the real thing."

Emily groaned and rolled her eyes, "You're up to your neck in shit, aren't you?"

"Noooo", Cal's voice came across an octave to high.

"Well, then you've got it baaaaaad for Gill", she teased him and Cal shot her another warning look. "For someone who didn't even want to come here in the first place you sure are putting a lot of thought into your choices."

"Oi! _You_ coerced me into coming here. _You_ dragged me in here from the parking lot. _You_ told me I had to get something meaningful!"

"Yes but I didn't say we'd have to scour every store between Maryland and Virginia in order to find it."

"What's wrong with you? I thought girls your age loved hanging out in malls all day." Cal shrugged and held up an iron cast candleholder with an intricate pattern and intriguing shape. Emily shook her head and pointed to a crystal vase behind him. Cal pulled a face.

"Not when we have to listen to our overbearing fathers fighting with the sales clerks."

"I didn't pick a fight. And she lied." He almost sounded like a child defying its mother after it had been reprimanded.

"Dad she was just trying to make a sale."

"She lied. She didn't really think you looked _that_ beautiful in it."

"Oh please, dad. What do you know about prom nights and dresses? You've never been to a US high school."

"Exactly. So I have to rely on your mum's and the sales clerks' expertise." Cal explained. "I won't let you go to your prom in a dress that the store lady doesn't believe looks absolutely smashing on you and makes her green with envy, wishing she looked that ravishing when she went to her own prom."

Emily looked at him funny.

"What now?" He raised his eyebrows and held up a bronze sculpture for inspection.

She launched herself into his arms and hugged her father tightly. "Love you", she mumbled into his shoulder.

Cal reciprocated a bit baffled. "What was that for?"

"Nothing, just," she squeezed him one more time.

"Love you, too, Em, but be more careful next time. I almost dropped the sculpture."

"That wouldn't have been a great loss. It's ugly and overpriced." Emily sighed as she disentangled herself from her father's embrace.

"Fair enough. I guess we'll just keep looking." Cal conceded and they left the store.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, that was a complete waste of time!" Cal declared as he hung up his coat.

"Perhaps, if you weren't so picky, you'd have found something." Emily rolled her eyes.

"It's not my fault that the stores didn't have the right things for Foster." He defended himself.

"Or maybe your expectations are a little bit too high…" Emily suggested. "You know, I'm beginning to think you've screwed up royally with Gillian and nothing money can buy could ever make things right between you guys."

"Don't be ridiculous, you were the one who told me I needed to find something meaningful. For all I care I could just order the next best romance novel off of Amazon."

"Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that." Emily walked past him into the kitchen.

"Fancy anything particular?" Cal asked his daughter.

"Anything but beans on toast, dad."

"Oi, that might prove to be difficult. What about my chicken tikka masala?"

Emily nodded and sat down at the kitchen island, from where she watched her father juggling pots and pans. While she was not an expert in reading faces, she'd gotten pretty good at gauging his overall mood. She figured now was as good a time as ever to set stage two of her Christmas plan in motion.

"So I've been thinking", she began and rolled her eyes, when Cal quipped uh-oh, "we should invite Gillian over for Christmas again this year."

"No can do. I'm the last person Gillian wants to spend the holidays with." Cal's tone bore no room for argument but she wouldn't be his daughter if she didn't put up a fight.

"Why not? Are you and Gillian breaking up?" Emily finally dared to ask and earned a dumbfounded look from her father. Just as he was about to point out that he and Gillian had never been together in the first place so how on earth could they be breaking up, she clarified, "Professionally. I mean is she leaving you and the company."

"No, of course not" Cal dismissed this notion entirely when he actually wanted to blurt out, _'Why, what have you heard?'_ "We've just hit a rough patch this year. Things will go back to normal soon."

"Then why don't you want to be around each other for the holidays? I don't understand you grown ups."

"First of all, Em, we're spending Christmas Day at your mother's because your grandparents are flying in all the way from Chicago. Second, for all you know Gillian has already made other plans."

"I really liked how we spent Christmas last year." Emily smiled.

"Me too. But last year was different because your mum was stuck in St. Louis and Gillian did me a huge favour by watching you while I was gone in Afghanistan. It was the least I could do to ask her to stay over the holidays and spend Christmas with us."

"We could do it again this year." Emily smiled at his use of Gill's first name.

"That wouldn't go over too well with your mum, love." Cal shook his head.

Emily suddenly changed course. "Why does mom hate Gillian?" She finally asked a question that had been burning on her mind long, "I mean what's Gillian ever done to piss her off so much?"

"Your mother doesn't hate Gillian, love, they just don't see eye to eye on many things."

"Like you?" Emily had been dying to ask this question for a long time. She was still a little girl, when Gillian had entered their lives, and she loved her father's new best friend instantly from the moment they'd met. But she could also sense her mother's resentment towards the new woman in her father's life and she noticed that the arguments between them occurred more often now and involved more and more Gillian's name.

Cal choked and gazed at his daughter for a full minute. No matter how much he longed for his little girl to remain just that, she reminded him every day she was growing up into a fine young lady. Apparently that included now asking highly inappropriate adult questions. "I loved your mum and I've never cheated on her. Ok?"

"Ok." Emily was satisfied with his answer. She would have had a hard time believing someone as classy as Gillian would cheat on her husband and wreck another family in the process anyway. But…she just had to ask for clarity's sake.

"Look, your mum and Gillian are two very, very different people. They see the world from very different eyes, so it's only natural that they clash."

Emily nodded, 'Like you and mom."

Cal groaned inwardly, "Yes, I guess so. That doesn't mean we don't respect each other – that includes Gillian. We just prefer not to spend too much time with each other if given the choice – which is a good thing 'cause otherwise we'd only end up fighting anyway."

"Then why does mom insist on having make believe holidays?"

"Because she's old-fashioned that way." Cal grinned and Emily could have sworn there was a whole lot of affection for her mother in his smile. "And to be honest, I don't want to have to fight for you for the holidays."

"What if I don't want to celebrate the holidays with both of you? Seriously, dad, we've barely recovered from Thanksgiving. Are you sure you're ready for another round of battle with mom?"

"So are you saying you don't want to spend the holidays with your old man?" Cal tried to keep the hurt out of his voice and failed miserably.

"No!"

"But we're gonna have a problem if your mum expects you there and your grandparents would be disappointed if you stayed with me. "

"I know but why can't I come to you for Boxing Day when we visit Roger's family." Emily whined.

Cal sighed, "Em, love, I told you. You don't have to dislike Roger for me."

"I don't, dad. If I did, I'd have to dislike Gillian for mom, too, but it doesn't work that way. I really just don't like him all that much but that's ok as long as he makes mom happy. But I really hate his family; his nephews are spoilt brats. And his mother freaks me out."

"Have you talked to your mother about this?" Cal sighed and Emily nodded, "And?"

"She said she'll think about it and has avoided the topic ever since."

Cal nodded pensively, "We'll see, ok? I'll talk to your mum when she comes to pick you up tomorrow."

"Ok. I think that's enough salt", Emily changed the subject and nodded towards the shaker in his hand, which he'd been absent-mindedly sprinkling over the meat.

"When is Liam coming to pick you up?" Cal asked casually.

"At eight", Emily glanced at her watch, "oh my gosh, I need to shower and get ready!" She hopped off the chair and yelled over her shoulder, "Call me when dinner is ready!"

Cal just chuckled and shook his head. _Teenagers!_

0~0~0~0~0

The evening found Cal brooding over the latest draft of his book but he couldn't really focus on the task at hand. Emily's words had left a much bigger impact than he cared to admit. He really had been pushing the limits the past few months and the truth was he couldn't even give a reasonable explanation as to _why_ he was behaving like an asshole to everyone. That they had not had a mutiny at the company was a miracle. One they probably owed to Gillian's diplomatic skills of keeping everyone happy while he pissed them off one after the other.

Why she kept doing it was beyond him. Sure, the firm was as much hers as his when one considered that she had insisted on investing a sizable junk of her and Alec's joint savings into the start-up capital. A fact Alec had never digested very well and probably held against her in the divorce settlement. He wondered how she'd managed to handle that issue. He'd bet his last shirt that Alec tried to take Gillian out to the cleaners and started to really wonder if she'd done the same thing he'd done with Zoë at the beginning of the year. Buy him out. Cal groaned. He'd also bet that Gillian rather took up a private loan than jeopardise the company. Why did she have to be such a saint? Because she's Gillian fucking Foster. That's why.

That's just who she was. Putting everyone else before her, always mediating between him and whomever he'd chosen to antagonise. She even saved bloody Loker's arse, when he jeopardised his job with the stupid stunt he'd pulled. Cal was certain that if scientists ever unravelled her DNA they'd find one particular gene, unique to Gillian Foster, that would explain why she had a heart of gold, the fierceness of a lioness protecting her cubs and the adorability of a puppy. She'd charmed off his socks in a second when they met. Oh he had tried to resist her charms but the man to do so had yet to be born! She'd wiggled her way into his life and made him completely dependent on her to clean up his messes. Something Zoë always refused to do. Not that he wanted either to. But with Foster it was different. He liked having her as his partner. He didn't mind relying on her expertise. He didn't mind her input. Why, he had no idea. All he knew was that if she suddenly were gone, he'd be completely lost without her.

Cal stared at the blank space in front of him and let out a long sigh. Maybe Emily was right. Maybe he couldn't find the perfect gift for Gillian because what he was trying to convey couldn't be bought with money. After all what did you give a woman who just about meant everything to you without practically telling her you loved her. Cause he didn't love her. Not like that anyway. Did he? Oh good God, whom was he kidding? He practically worshipped the ground she walked on. She'd reeled him in, hook, line and sinker, without even ever so much as intending to do so. How did you tell someone they meant the world to you? How could he possible express in words, let alone a single gift, all the things she did to him?

Cal shook his head, as if that would help him shake off his thoughts. He wouldn't be able to form a coherent sentence in this mood. Great, just what he needed. He decided tonight was as good a night as any to start combing through his manuscript to proofread and format citations and the first few chapters. He'd kept the personal introduction the way it was but eased it into a second part where he summarised a lot of the science presented in his first book, for people who might not have read it recently or at all. It couldn't hurt to explain the mechanics of the brain and facial muscles with some hard facts and fancy pictures before he delved into the more interpretive and analytical aspects of his work.

He grabbed the stack of paper and walked over to the fridge, scanning the section on emotional brain activities, to retrieve a cold bottle of beer. He turned the page and looked at the pictures illustrating his point, when he stopped dead in his track and almost dropped his precious lager. He had an epiphany. It couldn't be this easy, could it? He wondered whether this was even a proper Christmas gift to Gillian because, technically, he wasn't really going to buy her a present. He thought back to a five year old Emily who was distraught because she didn't have a real gift for her mummy. Cal had explained to her that Zoë would love a self-made drawing much more than anything that could be bought in the stores and watched his little girl's eyes light up at that revelation. Cal chuckled. Gillian certainly seemed the type to appreciate self-made gifts, so she might like this.

And just like that Cal had the vision of his complete book before his mind's eye, too. The structure and organisation suddenly all fell into place. Moreover, he felt the urge to write and finish this darn book as quickly as possible. He walked back to his desk and reached for the wipe out. Grabbing a pen and highlighter, he started to rearrange chapters and mark paragraphs, while sipping on his beer. He laughed out loud. And to think the answer had been in front of his nose all the time! But isn't it always like that? He cracked his knuckles and began to type feverishly. He could do this. He just hoped Gillian would appreciate the gesture, would understand the meaning of it.


	4. Chapter 4

"You seem a little nervous today", Gillian struck up a conversation while they were stuck in traffic.

"Me?" Cal looked at her, "I'm fine."

"Then why are you drumming with your fingers on the steering wheel?" Gillian pushed her chin forward pointing at the incessant motion of his hand.

"That's because I'm growing increasingly impatient with DC drivers. You'd think after all this time people got used to the idea of winter road conditions in December, but no, each year, traffic dies down when the first snow falls. Seriously, how can you _not_ expect there to be snow in bloody _December_?" Cal looked at Gillian with an irate temper.

She just smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders, "If people actually learned from their mistakes we'd probably go out of business."

"Fair enough, but that still doesn't change the fact that we're gonna be late for our meeting."

"They'll be late, too, Cal. They're stuck in the same traffic."

"Wouldn't it be funny if they were like five cars in front or behind us all the time?" Cal's mood suddenly shifted to joking.

_Was he deflecting?_ Gillian studied his face carefully but like so often she had trouble reading him.

"Loker didn't get the job at the Pentagon." Cal mentioned all of a sudden.

Gillian's eyebrows shot up at the change in subject again, "I know. He asked me for a reference."

"And you gave him one?" Cal stared at her incredulously.

"He's old enough to learn to stand on his own two feet." Gillian explained.

"Stand on his own two feet, my arse", Cal scoffed, "that boy wouldn't last a day at the DoD with his attitude problem."

"I know", Gillian repeated herself and explained upon Cal's disbelieving look, "He's also old enough to learn from his own mistakes. We can't protect him forever."

"Let them stumble and fall", Cal looked at her knowingly, "and then welcome them back when they've learned they're not king of the world."

"Kinda", Gillian conceded, "He wasn't happy anymore. He thought the grass is always greener somewhere else."

"He'll be in for a rude experience if he thinks the Pentagon is a lush green meadow." Cal's voice took on a sober tone. "You think that I'm being too hard on him, don't you?"

"I think you're trying to make him into something he isn't." Gillian corrected.

"Tomato, tomato." Cal rolled his eyes.

"Not everyone's got the same devil may care attitude that you do." She reminded him, "Loker isn't you."

"But he needs to grow a pair if he wants to stay in this business. Deception detection isn't exactly a clean business." Gillian knew he spoke from experience. Events he had not even shared with her from the war in Bosnia and his time in Belfast had left a lasting impression on him. And then there was their mutual past at the Pentagon with the whole Jimmy Doyle business. "The sooner he learns that, the better off he'll be in the long run. Torres learned to be tough as a child, Loker's always been mollycoddled."

"He'll come around", Gillian reassured him, "he just hasn't seen the light at the end of the tunnel yet. He's still a bit idealistic about the work we do."

Cal smiled, thinking fondly of their memories, "Like you in the beginning."

Gillian snorted, "Pot meet kettle. What were your words? 'I want to start a business with you, a company that specialises only in finding the truth regardless of the consequences.' For two jaded DoD renegades we went into this whole thing very blue-eyed."

"But I was right. There _is_ a demand for the truth, I was just wrong about the truth at all costs part. And you fell right for it and started to work with me." He admitted, then they both turned quiet for a few moments. "Have you ever thought about it?"

"About what?"

"Leaving?"

Gillian frowned, "_The Lightman Group_?"

Cal nodded and studied her face carefully.

"Don't do that, Cal."

"But you thought about it."

"The line, Cal."

"Then for heaven's sake tell me what you're thinking."

"Have I thought about leaving you and the company? Yes."

Cal swallowed and was glad they were still only merrily rolling along in the avalanche of cars winding their way through the greater metropolitan area. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to concentrate on the road while having this conversation.

"Why haven't you?" Cal inquired and Gillian thought she detected an intense edge to his voice.

She shrugged her shoulders, "I have my reasons."

Cal shot her a dirty look and prompted her to continue, "Like?"

"Well first of all _someone_ has to keep tabs on you or you'd get into all kinds of troubles." She grinned and Cal returned a smug one.

"And?"

"And second, I can't just up and leave a company I've helped build from scratch. I put a lot of money and time into the _Lightman Group_ and it's not like you can afford to buy me out at the moment."

"So you're staying out of guilt and parenting responsibilities?"

Gillian shrugged her shoulders.

"So essentially you're saying I'm a big child that needs to be looked after", he pouted half-mockingly.

If the subject hadn't been a touchy one lately, she might have laughed at his way with words. However, considering everything that had happened in the past few weeks, she wasn't sure why exactly she had stayed with him through thick and thin.

Gillian sighed, "Ahh, but you're _my_ big child." There was a time when her words would have been laced with covert fondness for him, but this time Cal searched in vain for this affection he secretly craved so much and which always thrilled him beyond explanation.

Cal's look seemed to bore into her. That wasn't the whole truth. He wasn't giving up on that one so Gillian finally threw her hands up in the air, "Sometimes I don't know anymore why I'm staying at all."

Now Cal was really grateful they were stuck in traffic because he'd probably have swerved off road at this comment.

"Are we breaking up?" He looked at her and frowned when he realised he used Emily's exact phrasing. He hastened to add, "Professionally."

"No!" Gillian exclaimed upset but then conceded, "I don't know? Are we?"

Cal was silent and pondered the age-old question, truth or happiness, never both. Only they were not really happy right now were they? Maybe sometimes truth was the best policy. "Emily asked me that question last weekend and initially I laughed it off but…we haven't been really close recently, have we?"

"No, not through my fault, though." Gillian thought of Cal's new alliance with Wallowski and couldn't hide her distaste from her voice.

"She's convenient and useful", Cal had no problem to read her demeanour and draw the proper conclusions.

"She's dangerous and poison to the company. And you're like the proverbial moth drawn to the flame." Gillian amended his evaluation of Wallowski.

Cal sighed, "We need her."

"Do you need her more than me?" Gillian challenged him and suddenly the temperature in the car seemed to drop twenty degrees.

"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" Cal's voice rose in anger and glared at her in disbelief.

"No", Gillian kept her voice purposefully low to keep their conversation from escalating into an argument while they were stuck in a car with no place to go, "but you asked me whether I thought about leaving and the truth is, the thought didn't really cross my mind before you started to question my loyalty and ally yourself with…" the word enemy almost slipped out but she just caught her guard in time, "her."

It took Cal a lot of willpower to keep his indifferent mask in place when he picked up on the hurt in her voice. He never realised how much he had hurt her. "That's not all, isn't it? In spite of my shabby behaviour lately, don't you think I deserve to know when I'm about to lose my best friend and partner?"

Gillian frowned. It had been a long time since Cal referred to her as that and an even longer time since he'd made her feel like that. There was a time when she giggled at her thoughts that she felt like she was the Bonnie to his Clyde, only he never let her take any real risks. He hadn't given her a reason to giggle in a long time. Right now she felt like he almost didn't have the right to call her that anymore at all.

"Out with it. Let's take the opportunity to air out our dirty laundry."

She played hard to get, dismissing it as Cal making fun of her, but he had none of it. She might not be able to read him as well as he was able to read her but she'd picked up on a lot of his behavioural cues, his facial ticks and especially his voice patterns. Gillian knew he wouldn't let go until they've hashed out every minute detail of their fucked up relationship.

"There was a time when I felt like the Bonnie to your Clyde", she looked at him sheepishly and cursed that she was blushing, "but ever since you went all _Reservoir Dog_ on me it feels as if you don't value my input at all. You never listen to me anymore. It's as if you don't need me anymore. Worse, it feels like you don't _want_ me there anymore."

"That's not true!" Cal blurted out with worry, "I _do_ need you." And in his thoughts he added, _And I've always wanted you in more ways than you can imagine._ "I just…"

"You what?"

"I want you to…. I don't want to…" Gillian would have found his struggle for words amusing had the topic not been so serious. He let out a long and defeated sigh, "You should be leaving; you should've never joined me in this crazy adventure in the first place. Alec was right, it had insanity written all over it from the beginning. All I've done is caused you grief and got you into troubles."

Gillian laughed out loud and Cal looked at her funny. She knew him well enough to know this was his Achilles' heel or she would've become incensed at his patronising presumptions.

"Don't you think I'm old enough to decide what I want in my life?"

"If you want me in your life, maybe it's time we've had your head examined", Cal quipped.

'That's what I've been telling myself recently", Gillian admitted jokingly but Cal noticed some statement of truth on her face. _Did she really want him in her life? Was that the true reason she'd stuck it out with him while he pulled one kamikaze stunt after another? And did she mean that as a friend or as a business partner or….heaven forbid…did she imply more?_

"I wouldn't know what to do if I lost you. I'd probably perish in peril." He joked but there was a serious undertone to his musings.

Gillian wanted to say, _rightly so,_ but instead opted for the more reconciling, "You haven't been showing that lately."

"I know. I've said some awful things to you. I don't deserve you. See that's what I mean. All I seem to accomplish is making your life miserable." He whined.

"You used to redeem yourself." _That_ caught his interest. Gillian could tell he wanted to ask why and how but didn't know how without letting on how much the situation between them bothered him. What bothered him most was probably her use of past tense.

"Are we as they say FUBAR?" The military acronym sounded almost comical coming out of Cal's British mouth.

Gillian laughed out loud, "No, I just think we both need to rearrange our priorities and figure out how we go from here."

"Time heals all wounds, eh?"

"Something like that, yeah."


	5. Chapter 5

The office party was in full swing. Cal watched his employees through the glass front mingle and socialise in the break room as Gillian's eggnog was passed around. _Foster_. His hands suddenly felt heavy with the weight of her gift. He'd just finished wrapping it in his office. He was a bit late but that didn't matter.

He knew it was against the rules but he was really glad he switched with Anna. Torres was much easier to handle as a Secret Santa. He watched his young protégée as she engaged in conversation with Loker, both of them trying desperately to ignore that they were standing underneath the mistletoe. Cal trusted his daughter to remedy that situation as soon as she was done talking Foster's ears off about _how awesome probably Liam was_.

_Jingle Bell Rock_ was blaring from the speakers, trying to create a fun but festive mood in the otherwise sterile high tech environment of their company space. Cal looked at the table where all the Secret Santa gifts had been stacked, and while he felt increasingly confident about having made the right choice for Torres, he seemed to feel exponentially sheepish about his gift for Foster.

"Dad! You're back!" Emily exclaimed when she spotted him and Cal had no longer an excuse to stay clear of the Christmas party. He put on a fake smile, why he didn't know because the whole point of his staff working for him was to see through such lies.

"Good, now we can open the gifts." Gillian smiled at him and nodded towards the table for Cal to deposit his gift.

"Err…no this one's for someone else. I already dropped off my Secret Santa gift earlier in the afternoon," he explained and immediately regretted it when he saw Gillian's eyes darken. She probably thought he'd gone out earlier to buy something for Shazzer and used it to blow off her and their party.

"It's for y…" he started but felt himself being pulled away by Heidi who gave him the first present, claiming as the boss he had to go first. Cal rolled his eyes and took the offered gift but retreated to a corner to open it quietly. Or that was what he pretended to do at least, while in reality he studied everyone's faces as they received their presents, opened them and then looked around trying to find out who their Secret Santa was. Some faces truly beamed with joy and surprise at the gift they'd gotten, some mustered a polite smile and thank you but he could see their disappointment that their Secret Santa hadn't put that much thought into their present.

He waited with bated breath for Torres reaction and almost broke out into laughter at her deer in the headlights look. The way she glanced around the room in slight panic mode was priceless. When her look fell on Foster, she squinted her eyelids, weighing the chances whether she was behind everything. Then her eyes darted briefly in his direction and Cal just flashed her his wolfish grin. He loved reading her face right now: _How'd you find out? How long have you known? Are we in trouble?_

Cal shook his head and suppressed his laughter. Instead he rose his cup of eggnog and toasted Torres a "Merry Christmas" from across the room. She blushed and glanced at Loker who was still unaware of his luck. Cal mouthed, "Don't fuck it up" and then saw his daughter approaching him out of the corner of his eye.

"What did you give Torres? She looks completely freaked out?" Emily asked curiously as she walked over to her father.

"Brilliant, isn't it? Totally worth the switch with Anna."

Emily glared and Cal realised it was too late to retract his blab. Damn the eggnog!

"I thought she could use some company over the holidays so I made a reservation for her and a special guest at a nice restaurant."

"Oh you put in a good word for her sister to come home for the holidays?" That's when she saw the blank gaze of her father, "No, you didn't think of that." Emily wondered, "I know that look, you've been naughty, what did you do?"

"The restaurant I picked happens to be Loker's favourite one." Cal said as a way of explanation. He waited a few moments for the penny drop with his daughter.

"Ria and Eli? Since when?" Emily gaped.

Cal shrugged his shoulders and grinned, "They had a fling a few months ago and thought they could keep it from me. Thought I'd take a leaf out of your book and play Cupid."

"You're such a romantic." Emily returned her father's grin, "You're not going to spy on them, are you?"

He gave her his best innocent look. He wished he could install cameras at the restaurant just as he had them strategically placed throughout his company offices.

"Dad!" Emily slapped his shoulder and shook her head to scold him, "Leave them alone. It's bad enough that you spy on your employees, what they do outside of the office is their business."

"You're taking all the fun out of my little game. Can you imagine what opportunities for teasing them I'd miss out if I followed your advice?" Cal countered.

"That's a new low, even for you, dad." Emily shook her head, "They're not your lab rats you can study."

"Fine." Cal grumbled.

"Did you find a gift for Gill yet?"

Cal nodded.

"So? When are you gonna give it to her?" Emily asked and followed her father's gaze as he took in how Gillian unwrapped Anna's gift. The little snow globe conjured up a huge smile on Gillian's face and quickly gathered the attention of the rest of the staff.

"Bloody hell!" Cal muttered when he realised it was a handmade snow globe with small replicas of Gillian, him, Loker and Ria ice skating against the backdrop of a miniature of the Lightman Group sign in their entry. "I'm so done." He whispered. Why did he never think of such things? Any blind man could see how much Gillian enjoyed the simple but oh so thoughtful gift.

Suddenly he felt stupid. The box in his hand seemed to gain weight with the disappointment of the realisation that his present would pale besides Anna's self-made snow globe. Cal picked up his gift and looked at Emily, "Come on, I'll drop you off at your mum's."

"What? Why? You're not leaving yet, are you? The party's just started…"

Cal just nodded and gave his daughter a soft nudge, "Say good-bye to everyone."

"But what about Gillian's gift? When are you…" Emily trailed off and then realised, "You aren't… You're an idiot, dad." With that she left Cal to make her rounds and wish everyone happy holidays one last time.

"What were you going to say earlier?" Gillian asked as she strolled over noticing he was readying to leave.

"Nothing. Never mind", Cal shrugged it off. "Merry Christmas, love." Cal brushed his lips against her cheek softly.

Gillian tried her level best not to let her disappointment at Cal's change in behaviour show. "Merry Christmas, Cal."

0~0~0~0~0

Gillian Foster was just about to turn off the lights in her house and make herself comfortable on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate when her doorbell rang. She paused the DVD with the remote, wearing a frown. Who could this be? It was much too late for carollers and she didn't expect anyone. Oh God, please don't let this be Alec trying to make amends. She was not in the mood to deal with his demons right now; she had no strength left. All she wanted was some peace and quiet for the night. She flung the door open and gasped in surprise.

"Merry Christmas, love."

"Cal!"

"You should be more careful, answering your door like that! I could be a criminal. It's late evening…" he trailed off, leaving the details of the picture he was drawing to her imagination.

"What are you doing here? Where's Emily? Are you ok?" Gillian asked worried hoping nothing had happened to them. The roads were slippery with snow and ice and she hadn't heard from them since they left the party.

"I dropped her off at her mum's and I was on my way back", Cal grew silent, "and somehow I ended up here in your neck of woods."

"Oh."

"Can I come in? You'll catch your own death in this cold." He nodded at her flimsy robe.

"Of course." Gillian stepped aside and let Cal enter. She took in the image of a worn out Cal with tousled her, carrying gifts and standing in her hallway looking a bit like a fish out of water. She broke out into a giggle and Cal gave her a funny look.

"It's just you look quite the picture right now", Gillian laughed and pointed at the mistletoe over his head.

"Oh!" Cal exclaimed as he looked up.

Gillian took the opportunity to return his kiss on her cheek the last time they talked but just at that moment Cal decided to look down again and Gillian's mouth met his lips instead. They both seemed to freeze in the action – Cal's eyes grew wide and Gillian's popped open in surprise. And yet neither broke their contact, they looked into each other's eyes and suddenly were overcome by their suppressed emotions. Cal kissed her back, pressing his lips against her a bit more forcefully, trying to deepen their kiss. Gillian's lips opened and her tongue snuck out, brushing softly over Cal's lips, before it disappeared in the depths of his mouth.

Cal groaned and Gillian's knees buckled. He held blindly on to his gifts for fear of dropping them as the passion of their kiss grew. When they finally broke apart they looked at each other sheepishly.

"I come bearing gifts." Cal broke the silence and hopefully the awkwardness of the moment. He held up an awkwardly wrapped present with a bottle of wine and a few DVDs strewn upon it.

Gillian offered to free his hands so he could take off his coat. She looked through the DVDs he'd brought, "_The Grinch_? _Scrooge_? _A Christmas Carol_? Trying to spread some holiday cheer?" She looked at him scolding.

"That's Loker's doing, that is. I'm pretty sure he was my Secret Santa and attempted to send me a message with his selection."

"Touchy today?" Gillian laughed.

Cal wrinkled his nose and sniffed a few times, "Do I smell hot chocolate?" Well, technically he tasted it first on Gillian while they kissed but he didn't feel confident enough right now to talk about the pink elephant in the room.

Gillian nodded, "I made caramel hot chocolate. I was just about to start watching a movie myself."

"Well then, shall we?" He nodded towards the living room once he'd taken off his boots as well.

"Sure. Just let me switch the movies, which one did you want to see first?"

Cal couldn't care less. All he really wanted was to spend some part of Christmas with Gillian because he knew it would make his holidays a bit more bearable. He loved how she implied that they would watch all of them.

"Cal? Which one?"

"I don't have any preference. What were you going to watch?"

Gillian laughed, "A chick flick. You'd hate it."

Cal turned around and looked at her, "No, go ahead. I don't want to change your plans, I just want to be part of your holidays for a little while."

Gillian furrowed her eyebrows. He acted weird. He was up to something. But she knew him better than to push him, he'd tell her of his own accord in due time. After all that's why he'd shown up on her doorstep on Christmas Eve. Something was on his mind, if not even bothering him deeply, that he needed to get out but just didn't know how. And like always she'd sit and wait until he found the right words to tell her. Sometimes she thought things would be really easier if she could read him as well as he did her. If only he'd let his mask slip every once in a while and show his true emotions, things between them would improve vastly.

"Ok but I'm warning you. It's a sappy English romantic comedy set before Christmas." Gillian said dramatically as she made her way into the kitchen to fetch him another cup of hot chocolate and stock up her plate of Christmas cookies. On her way out she remembered Cal's bottle of pinot noir and grabbed the corkscrew and two wine glasses.

Cal grinned and gave an even more dramatic eye roll, "Oh the things I do for you, love…"

When Gillian returned Cal had busied himself by getting two blankets from her cupboard and starting a small fire in her fireplace. Gillian's eyebrows shot up at the cosy atmosphere he'd created in her absence.

"The temperature outside's dropping to the low twenties tonight, I thought we'd prepare to keep warm this evening."

Gillian nodded and offered him his cup. Cal took it, muttering cheers, and patted the seat on the couch next to him for her to sit down. She sat down the glasses and cookie platter and then snuggled herself into the opposite corner of the couch. Cal's hurt at her desire to keep her distance from him didn't show on his face but he stretched over to drape the blanket around her to keep her warm. Gillian smiled gratefully in response.

When she pressed play, Cal let out a groan of recognition. Gillian sent him a shut up you've had your chance look.

"Didn't we watch this movie last year? This reminds me…"

Gillian just grinned and scowled when Cal stopped the DVD.

"What the? Cal!"

"What are your plans for Boxing Day, love?" He sat up and turned so he was facing her.

Gillian stared at him confused, "Nothing, why?"

"I am under orders by my daughter to invite you over for a second gift unwrapping orgy."

Gillian just raised her eyebrows, "I already gave Emily her gift at the office party."

"She didn't open it but that's besides the point. Emily doesn't want you to spend the holidays alone and if you don't want us to incur her wrath you better say yes to her invitation."

"I thought you said she's spending Christmas with her mother?"

Cal nodded, "Emily insisted on separate Christmases this year. She claims it's to avoid the fighting between Zoë and me but I think she just hopes she'll get more gifts this way." Cal reached casually for the bottle of wine and looked at her with a question in his eyes. She nodded and pushed their glasses together. "So we've decided Zoë gets her Christmas Day and I get her Boxing Day."

Gillian smiled at Cal's way of rationalising his daughter's decisions but then sobered up, "What about you?"

"Me?" He retorted while opening the bottle.

"You said Emily invited me because she doesn't want me to be alone for the holidays. What about you, do you…"

"I'm here, love. With you on Christmas Eve. I think it's obvious what I want." Cal said, his tone laced with pent up emotions but he didn't look at her. Nor did he go into detail of what he was actually trying to accomplish by showing up on her doorstep tonight. He focused on pouring wine into each one of their glasses.

Gillian nodded and let out a deep breath. "I suppose I've had worse invitations to spend the holidays."

"Good, it's settled then." Cal held up both their glasses and extended one to her, "Merry Christmas, love."

"Merry Christmas, Cal." Gillian toasted back and clinked her glass with his one. They both took a sip of wine and enjoyed its taste as it spread.

"Why didn't you fly out to meet your parents?"

"Because they're going on a cruise out of San Diego. They're sleeping at my sister's over Christmas and leave on Boxing day for two weeks."

Cal raised his eyebrows, "And you didn't want to join them?"

"I can't leave the company alone for two weeks. Besides being confined to a floating vessel with my parents is not exactly my idea of relaxing."

"Sure you can. Emily and I went on vacation to Mexico last year."

"Only for six days. And came back with a case!" Gillian admonished him.

"I'm sure there won't be any missing mothers on a cruise ship. It's pretty hard to vanish from an enclosed space." Cal reasoned, "You should've gone. You deserve a little break. You've been working really hard. I can hold the fort down while you're gone."

"You'd ruin the company", Gillian scoffed, "I'd return to a carcass after you've run away everybody and gambled away our assets."

"Now you're exaggerating, I'm not that bad", Cal put on a mock look of hurt but then turned serious, "I'm sorry for what I said about our assets being mine. I get it. I really do, not least because Emily took it upon herself to remind me of the meaning of equity partner. I shouldn't have said that. I was way out of line."

Gillian gaped at him in surprise and needed a second to catch herself, "Thank you, Cal. That really hurt that day."

"I know it was meant to." He admitted and Gillian would have grown angry had his words not been accompanied by that wretched look of his. This was the most heartfelt apology she'd received from him – ever.

"I just want you to understand that when you put the company at risk, financially, you put _my_ financial security at risk, too. I've invested the majority of my savings in our firm, if you ruin our business I've got nothing to fall back on."

"I know." Cal sighed, "And I really don't want to jeopardise our friendship over money. That would be too much of a cliché."

"You won't… if you finish that darn book of yours. We can't afford them coming after you in the new year. I'm barely keeping the ship afloat; quite honestly we could really use the rest of your royalties to carry us through the next quarter. Now can we please watch the movie?"

"Can we keep _Love Actually_ for Boxing Day? Emily will never forgive us for watching it without her and I'm not sure I can suffer through it twice on such short notice." Cal quipped.

"Okay, shall we get one of yours?"

Cal nodded and got up to retrieve his gifts from Loker. He held up each DVD to get Gillian's vote. They ended up watching _The Grinch_ and falling asleep halfway through.

0~0~0~0~0

When Cal woke up hours later, the only source of light came from the TV, bathing the room in a bluish tinge. Gillian had snuggled up to his chest, which made Cal feel giddy inside. She felt comfortable enough around him to cuddle up to him in her sleep. He was loathe to wake her up, he'd much rather spend the night there on her sofa, watching her sleep, keeping her warm, playing her pillow. However, he could already feel his body protesting now and could only imagine how they would both feel like in the morning if they'd sleep on the couch. Also, it was a bit chilly because the fire had died down. Cal stretched as well as he could, nudging Gillian softly in the process, but she responded only by pressing her face deeper into his chest and humming contently.

That's it. Cal decided. He would never leave this couch again. They were going to stay like this for the rest of their lives. Gill's face glowed softly in the faint light and he was tempted to lean down and breathe in her scent. She was so beautiful even when she was asleep. He felt privileged being in the position to actually find out and be a judge of it. She smelled so good, he thought, as he inhaled the scent of her hair and shampoo. Cal could feel his body starting to react to Gillian's proximity. His gaze fixed on her full red lips. He thought back to the first time he'd actually had the pleasure of kissing them. He couldn't believe that was only six months ago and so much had happened between them since. Where had it all gone wrong to a point where they could barely speak let alone stand being around each other? What he would give to go back in time and change the outcome of things. He felt magically drawn to her lips and before he could stop himself he pressed his mouth against hers.

Gillian stirred and cracked her eyes open. The room was dark and she could barely make out Cal's face as she felt his lips brushing over hers. However, she could make out just enough in the dark to see that he had his eyes closed and no idea she was awake. He was taking his sweet time and Gillian surprised him by opening her mouth. Instinctually, Cal's tongue swiped over her lips and sought out her tongue. They both let out a soft moan and registered in the back of their minds that they were both awake now, about to engage in a heated make-out session on her couch. But neither cared.

Her tongue felt so soft against his, he thought, and yet her kisses were so demanding. At one point she'd briefly broken away from him to pull herself up to eye level with him. That gave her better access and she could rest more comfortably against his body. Cal groaned inwardly, knowing it was just a question of time until his lower body started to respond to their kissing and her touching him. He could feel her hands sneaking underneath the fabric of his shirt, trailing invisible lines on his stomach. His brain told him to put a stop to this, to leave and come back with a clear head before they made a mistake. But every fibre of his being told him to melt into her touch, to kiss her back with the same fervour she put in her gentle explorations of his mouth and neck.

Gillian noticed his change in demeanour and broke away. She gauged his reaction carefully and was surprised to see the mask from his face gone. He was obviously at war with himself whether this was the right thing and time to cross the line.

"Hey." Gillian whispered and brushed her hand over the scruff of his cheek.

"I should leave." Cal blurted before his hormones clouded over his judgement again.

"Yes, you could. Or you could stay. Here. Inside where it's warm." She read his face that displayed a myriad of different emotions. She loved the fact that being with her like this made it impossible for him to keep his mask in place. "With me."

"That wouldn't be such a good idea." Cal said and knew that every fibre of his body was betraying his words. Gillian had a way of getting under his skin and he was pretty sure that she could see the struggle he went through play out on his face, no matter how hard he tried to keep a neutral expression.

"Why?" She challenged him and Cal blushed. In lieu of a verbal response he pushed up his hips and let Gillian feel where his mind was at right now.

"So?" Gillian raised her eyebrow.

"You deserve better than that. Flowers, dinner and a movie and all that crap. You know proper date and all…" He trailed off when she shushed him with her finger.

"Well, you _did_ bring me a Christmas gift instead of the flowers, we shared cookies and hot chocolate, which we'll just file under dinner and we _did_ watch the first half of a movie. Besides, I think I'm old enough to know what I want." Gillian teased him with a grin on her face.

"What _do_ you want?" Cal looked at her expectantly and in the blink of an eye the atmosphere in her living room was charged with high-strung emotions and desperate passion.

_I want to be the only woman in you life._ Gillian thought but opted instead for the less dramatic, "Right now, I want you to kiss me senseless."

Cal sighed and shook his head wistfully, "It's always been you, Gill, you know that right?"

"What?" This was the closest Cal had come to baring his soul to her. She wanted to ask about Clara and Wallowski and that jewel thief but she didn't have to because Cal saw it before she had a chance to put her thoughts into a coherent sentence.

"They meant nothing. And the only place I want to squeeze Shazzer is on the streets. Really, Gill, I swear I've never slept with her. Not even so much as kissed her."

More than his words, Gillian picked up on the things he'd left unsaid. "You couldn't hurt me like that could you? After all the crap you put me and the company through, you couldn't…" She trailed off at a loss for words.

Cal shook his head, "I thought about it but it felt wrong", and he winced, "almost like cheating on you. Couldn't betray you like that. Not at least knowing how you felt about her."

"This isn't a…."

Cal didn't even let her finish that thought. He reached out to take her face between his palms. "No! You could never be just something like that. This…whatever this is…it's the real deal. I don't think I could ever sleep with you and just move on."

"Good because once we cross this line I don't think I can go back."

"I don't want to go back, love. I hate the bloody line. If we do this I won't be able to stop. I've waited too long for this moment to happen. This is it. Gillian. This is it for me. If you have doubts you need to say no now because once we go back to kissing I don't know if I can stop again."

She smiled encouragingly, "Then what are you waiting for?"

Cal returned the grin and resumed their passionate kissing. Gillian ran her fingers through his hair, playing with the strands in his nape. She felt his arms tighten around her waist and immediately cuddled deeper into his embrace. Cal's hands began to travel lower and thread their way through her robe. Gillian couldn't remember the last time she'd shared such an intimate and longing kiss that coursed through every fibre of her being. She gasped and drew in a sharp breath, when she felt Cal's hands touch her intimately. She slowly pulled back and grazed his lips with her teeth teasingly. They broke away from each other, a little breathless gazing into each other's eyes.

Cal groaned when he felt how ready she was for him. He began to stroke her softly and mumbled, "Please tell me you've got condoms in the house…"

"As a matter of fact…upstairs…in my nightstand…" Gillian murmured in between moans.

Cal pulled his hand out and pushed himself off the couch. "Then what on earth are we still doing down here?" He reached for her hand and let her guide him to her bedroom.

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><p><em>Thanks for all the reviews!<em>


	6. Chapter 6

Gillian woke up and stretched lazily like a cat. She turned around, fully expecting to snuggle into Cal's warm body. Her head shot up, when she face planted into the coldness of his pillow.

Cal admired her feline agility and wished he could stay longer to test the limits of her contortion abilities. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you", he apologised as he quietly slipped into his pants. He walked over to her bed without buttoning his fly and sat down.

"You didn't", Gillian explained as she sat up and pulled the sheets close to her chest, "well, not really, I missed the warmth of your body."

A playful smile graced the corner of Cal's lips at her modest attempt to keep herself covered. As if he hadn't committed all her beauty to memory last night… He reached for her face and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Instead of pulling his arm back, he let his hand rest on her cheek. He sighed as he gazed into her eyes. There were so many things he wanted to tell her but couldn't find the right words for.

"Come back to bed", Gillian whispered and put her hand over his.

Cal stroked her cheek and shook his head, "I can't. I have to pick up Emily."

"What time is it?" Gillian looked around surprised but Cal's positioning of his arm had her view to the alarm clock blocked.

"Early afternoon."

Gillian gasped and Cal broke out into a mischievous grin and reminded her, "We have been very naughty all night."

"Are you complaining I kept you up all night?" Gillian leaned forward and brought her forehead against his.

"Nooooo", Cal drew the word out playfully, "but I'm running behind because we slept in so late."

"When did you say you'd be there?" Gillian sighed and rubbed her forehead against his affectionately.

"I promised to be there for dinner at five. I kind of regret saying yes to Zoë's dinner invitation now but you know extend the olive branch and all that crap. I'd rather stay here with you."

"You need to shower or she'll know and throw a fit." Gillian whispered. They smelled positively of hot, passionate sex. She liked that _a lot_.

Cal pulled her closer and inhaled deeply, "I love your scent. I love that I can smell you on me. I don't want to wash it off yet."

"Did you just say that?" Gillian chuckled.

"Afraid so, love." Cal replied chagrined. He really didn't want to leave her… especially not for a nightmare of family dinner with his testy ex-wife. Oh well at least Zoë's father would be there, he'd converted him into a football fan – the real one not the American persiflage – so at least he'd have a dinner conversation partner. "I need to go and get changed."

"You could shower here", Gillian breathed huskily into his ear and snaked her hand into his open pants. Cal let out a groan and crashed his lips against hers. He invaded her with raw passion. Gillian's grip around him grew stronger and she began to stroke him in his briefs, mimicking the rhythm of his tongue. The sensation proved too much for Cal and he had to break away reluctantly but decidedly before the situation got out of hand.

"As much as I would love to take this to your bathroom and fuck your brains out in your shower, I really can't. If I'm late, I'll antagonise Zoë and she'll cause a scene."

"I'm gonna miss you", Gillian whispered.

"Nah, you won't even notice I'm gone. It's only for a few hours. I promise I'll wolf down dinner and skip desert." Cal wiggled his eyebrows indicating he'd get desert home later – with her.

Gillian gasped and slapped his chest softly, then frowned, "Wait a moment…"

Cal ignored her and continued on, "I'll call you before we leave, so you know when to get ready."

"Are you saying that you want me to stay over tonight?"

"Of course, it will be easier than driving back here tomorrow morning. Who knows what the conditions will be." Cal explained and added as an afterthought, "Gonna be a bit hard getting laid tonight with you sleeping here and me being at my house, don't you think?"

"Someone's a bit overenthusiastic. Who says you're getting any tonight?"

"It's Christmas! Surely you wouldn't leave me to fend for myself on a holiday that's supposed to be all about sharing with others." Cal put his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

"What about Emily?"

Cal bit his lower lip. "Honestly, I haven't thought about that part yet."

"So what are you gonna tell her?"

"That daddy is having a sleep over?" he joked.

Gillian raised her eyebrows and gave him a pointed glare.

"What?" Cal shrugged his arms, "What do you want me to say?"

"What is this, Cal?"

He looked at her puzzled and almost blurted out what is what. He was glad he realised the problem just in time and bit his tongue. Chances were she would have kicked him out for good.

"I don't know, what do you want it to be?" He countered.

"What are we twelve? Don't answer my question with another question."

Cal sighed, "Look, Gill, you know I'm not good at this. I don't know what you want me to say. Can't we talk about this later?"

"How about the truth, Cal? Why did you come by last night?"

"Because I wanted to see you and salvage what little there was left of our friendship." She raised her eyebrows, "I swear, I didn't come here with the intent to seduce you. I would've bought condoms on my way over if that had been the case." He reminded her. "Do you regret what happened last night?"

Gillian shook her head no; picking up on the edge of worry in his voice, "Course not. I'm just…what are we doing, Cal? I mean this changes everything! What are we gonna do about Emily? About work? About...?" Cal silenced her with a kiss before she got any more worked up.

"Calm down, love." He whispered against her lips. "Let's not worry about too many things at once, ok. I'll deal with Emily. I'll explain it to her. Don't worry about that. And no one at work has to know yet."

"I don't want to sneak around behind your daughter's back." Gillian clarified.

"We won't." Cal reassured her, "She's old enough to understand and she's been on my case to get back into the dating game for years now."

"What are you gonna say to her?"

"The truth", Cal shrugged.

"Which is?"

"That we're exploring a new angle in our relationship – which has been quite frankly long overdue according to Emily anyway. She's not stupid, she'll know we're sleeping together, if we're romantically involved, so there'll be no need for you to pretend to stay in the guestroom."

"I don't want to make her uncomfortable in her own home."

"It's not like we're gonna flaunt it in front of her. Trust me, as long as we don't play tonsil hockey in front of her, she'll be thrilled that we're together. She's like our very own personal cheerleader. I've lost count how many times Emily has hinted to me in the past that you're the ideal woman for me."

"She has?" Gillian smiled and thought back to an exchange between them a few years ago where the teenager voiced similar sentiments. She couldn't be sure whether she had been talking about her and Cal's friendship or was hinting at them becoming romantically involved but the memory that Emily thought she made her father happy put Gillian's mind a little at ease. "She's a smart one."

"Yeah, we still don't know where she got that from. Maybe Zoë had a fling with the mailman?" Cal joked but then turned serious again.

"Last night was… what we have…" He tried again but to no avail.

"Yes?" Gillian prompted him nervously and excitedly. And then Cal did something he hadn't done in years. Something he'd never even shared with his wife. He let his guard down completely and let Gillian read his face. Her eyes widened in shock as he let her into his inner sanctuary and she automatically catalogued the different expressions that ran across his face, mirroring his inner turmoil.

"This is it, Gill. This is it for me. Last night meant _everything_ to me. You weren't just an itch I had to scratch. And you could never be just a good fuck for me. You know that, don't you? I mean you know that I care about you, that I would never hurt you on purpose."

Gillian nodded ever so slightly and closed her eyes resting her forehead against his, "But you _have_, Cal, and that's part of the problem why I have a hard time trusting you with my heart." Gillian wanted to bite her tongue. She'd never meant to voice her thoughts out loud. Cal could not have looked more aghast if she had slapped him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" she trailed off because nothing she could do would take back what she'd said.

Cal put his hand up to shush her, "No it's ok. You're right."

She could see how disgusted he was with himself. He was wrestling with his inner demons and she knew she'd lose him forever, if she didn't try to make him understand. "I would've never slept with you, if I hadn't been sure", she explained and Cal looked up confused. "It was my choice as much as it was yours. I don't regret what has happened but that doesn't mean we're not about the make the biggest mistake of our lives."

"So what do you want from me?"

"I want to give us a chance, Cal, but I don't want to be the other woman. I don't want to worry about you going back to Zoë."

"That's not going to happen."

"Please, Cal. That woman's got you wrapped around her little finger."

"Ah but you've cast your magic spell over me", he replied cheesily.

"I don't want to be the other woman." Gillian repeated with emphasis, "Whatever little arrangement you have with Wallowski has to stop." Gillian decided it was time to lay down a few ground rules.

Cal shook his head vehemently and groaned, "Argh! Not this again! We've been over this yesterday! How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not shagging Shazzer?" His patience was wearing thin, "She's _just_ a cop I can squeeze on the street. That's all where I want to squeeze her for that matter."

Gillian raised her eyebrows in surprise. She'd never believed him before when he'd said that but this time, with his guard down, she could see the truth in his words written plainly on his face. And then she remembered they had an almost identical conversation last night.

"Now, you, on the other hand", Cal continued, "I want to shag in the bedroom, in your shower, in my office, on the streets, oh and in my study…" He trailed off and Gillian shoved him gently off when he tried to kiss her.

"Be serious, Cal! This is important to me." Gillian insisted, "So what are we? Dating? In a relationship?" She'd almost blurted out _in love_ but caught her tongue just in time.

"Oh we're so definitely exclusive, but do we have to put a label on our relationship?" Cal countered and looked at her expectantly, "I mean, can't we just enjoy what we have? I know you like to plan ahead and everything – and really that's fine with me because that's who you are and I love you for who you are – but this once, can we just take it one step at a time? Just see how things develop? No pressure to fit social conventions of dating?"

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot actually," Gillian confessed and smiled faintly at Cal. Was she insane for agreeing to a relationship with Cal? It wasn't like she was going to marry the man. That would be crazy! He'd get himself killed before they'd had a chance to announce their engagement.

"I'm sorry, Gill." Cal sighed, "You know me, love, I'm not really good with words, the more I talk about us the more likely I'm to fuck it all up. So I'll just say this: I want you, Gillian. I have funny ways of showing how much I care but I do. I want this more than anything. I think we could be great together if we gave us a chance."

"Or we could be a disaster with a capital d."

"Or we could be a disaster", he conceded and repeated but then amended, "but we will never find out if we don't try. And I want to try this, Gill, I really want to because last night was phenomenal."

"Yeah it was", Gillian smiled and gave him a peck, "and I don't mean just the sex." Cal returned the sentiment with a sweet but deep kiss. She let her fingers roam across his pectorals – she couldn't remember the last time she'd been with a man when the urge to touch him was this overpowering. She wasn't lying when she said it wasn't just about the sex. The connection she felt with Cal when he entered her, when they made love, was something she had not felt in a long time. Cal did not only make her feel sexy and wanted but safe and protected. There was a bond between them, always had been since the moment they had met she realised now, that was stronger than anything she had ever felt before. Not with Dave and to be honest not even with her ex-husband. Maybe she had never felt that way before. Like she was finally coming home. Like maybe, just maybe, the puzzle pieces would all fall into place for her, once and for all in her life. She looked him in the eyes and was relieved to see that he had not slipped his mask back on. He was truly trying to let her in. She knew it was only a question of time until the world would get to him and he'd put his defence back up but for now she delighted in reading on his face what neither of them was capable of voicing out loud yet. They loved each other. They were _in love_ with each other.

"I wish I could promise you happily ever after and forever but you and I both know that I'm a bit of a wanker and will more than likely screw it up. But I want to try for you, Gillian, and all I can hope for is that you take me back after I mess it up."

"I think we've established already that I'll always take you back no matter what you've done." A thin sheen of tears veiled her eyes, though she wouldn't admit how much Cal's words and honesty had touched her heart.

"Oh bloody, hell, don't start crying on me now, woman!" Cal groaned.

"I'm not crying." Gillian rebuked but added meekly, "And if, it would be happy tears."

"Happy, huh?" Cal wiped her eyes with his thumbs and rested his forehead against hers.

Gillian nodded, "Yeah, despite all your screw-ups, and death wishes, and stupid antics you make me happy. You always have, Cal."

"Come here," Cal pulled her into a hug. "I'll be honest with you, I'm a bit rusty in the romantic department because I haven't been in a serious relationship since Zoë, so you'll have to be a bit patient with me."

"I know", Gillian mumbled against his chest. "It's ok, Cal. I understand. So where do we go from here? What do you want?"

"Well, I want…you…naked…in my bed…tonight." Cal hummed against her skin, accenting each word with a kiss on her shoulder.

Gillian giggled and pushed him back forcefully, "Well, then you better get all your ducks in a row, before your ex-wife throws you into her dungeon."

Cal laughed out loud but turned serious again, "Are we ok?"

Gillian nodded and kissed him gently, "Go. I'll be all right. I'll see you in the evening."

Cal nodded as he straightened up. He finished dressing and checked his phone. Three missed calls from Emily. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Gillian. "For the records, I'd much rather stay here with you and continue what we started last night."

When he was barely out of the door, she called after him, "What about the cube?"

"Excuse me?" He stopped dead in his tracks and whirled around.

"Earlier when you listed all the places you'd want us to do it…you left out the cube. I've always wanted to do it in there with you." Gillian smiled innocently as if she'd just asked him how many cubes of sugar he wanted with his cup of tea.

Cal opened his mouth, but words failed him. He gaped at her, speechless, for what felt like a minute and he could clearly see the hidden glee on Gillian's face. He pointed his finger at her, and shook his head bemused, "Now that was just cruel. Putting that image into my head right before I'm about to have dinner with my daughter, in-laws and ex-wife. Now I need twelve cold showers before I drive over there."

"Just making sure you won't forget me over dinner with Zoë", she still smiled innocently but there was a hint of insecurity in her voice. It broke Cal's heart. He'd really not given her a lot of reasons to trust him the way he had always run back to his ex-wife at Zoë's back and call.

"Believe me, after last night… I could _never_ forget you over anything…or anyone." He said sincerely. "And don't you think I won't cash in on that offer of yours."

"I'm banking on it."

"You better! First thing after the holidays I'm gonna fire everyone, so we have the cube all to ourselves." Cal declared.

Gillian shook her head and threw the pillow at him. Cal caught it easily with one hand and pressed his face into it. "Mhm. Smells like you. Think I'll keep it."

"Out now. Don't take too long." Gillian said.

Cal tossed the pillow back and opened the door, "You're an evil, evil woman. Later, love."

"Oh and for the records, _you_ are most definitely a good fuck!" She called after him laughing.

"I did _not_ just hear that." Cal called over his shoulder and closed the door behind him.

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><p><em>Thank you all for the reviews.<em>


	7. Chapter 7

_With apologies for the long wait and the fact that it's not been proofread. Life happened. Thanks for the reviews._

* * *

><p>After a quick shower, Gillian ventured downstairs and surveyed the mess she and Cal had left in the wake of their passion. She turned off the TV, folded and put away the blanket, and cleaned up the coffee table. He'd barely been gone for half an hour and she already missed him. She stared absentmindedly at the couch, balancing their cups and glasses in her hands, thinking back to their romantic evening.<p>

She still was not entirely sure _why_ he'd come by last night. Sure, the reason he gave her seemed logical but why now? What had happened? Why'd he change? Even more important was the question burning on her mind whether he'd be capable of that change. She really wanted their relationship to work. Last night opened the floodgates and she wasn't sure she could ever go back to just being friends. It was too early to say it out loud, lest she spook him, but she loved him. She had a feeling he returned it, but couldn't be sure how deep his feelings for her ran. She'd loved him for a long time; she just couldn't see how they'd ever arrive at the threshold they crossed last night. But it happened anyway and Gillian did not regret it. He was trying, so hard, and did it really matter why?

She sighed and walked into the kitchen. Rather than loading the dishwasher, she did the dishes herself. Occupational therapy. Her mind would go crazy, if she kept over thinking her and Cal. Cleaning up after them would keep her and her mind busy. A short while later, her kitchen and living room were spotless and Gillian glanced at the clock. Almost three. She did the quick math of time zone differences and retrieved her laptop to set up a Skype session with her family on the West Coast. Her niece and nephew's faces appeared on the screen right after the first ring, scolding Gillian for taking so long. They'd been anxiously awaiting her call apparently. She took turns talking with everyone, her parents, her sister, her brother in law until she heard her mother calling everyone together for lunch from the kitchen. Gillian smiled but felt a slight pang in the chest at the domesticity she was not really a part of. Wishing everyone a merry Christmas again, she hung up and turned off the computer. Now what. 4pm. Cal was probably just about to get ready to drive over to his ex-wife. But what should she do?

Lunch! As she moseyed into the kitchen, she spotted a medium sized package on the sideboard in her hallway. Cal had stored his gifts there last night. This one he'd been carrying around for the better half of the day like a prized possession…and now he seemed to have forgotten all about it. When she saw him with it running around during the office party she was convinced it was a gift he'd gotten for Wallowski… and that he'd make a pit stop at her place for a little festive celebration.

Instead he came to her. She reached into the fridge to grab the ingredients for making herself a roast beef sandwich. Maybe the present wasn't for the detective after all. He could've still dropped it off before coming to her place. She tried to remember what Cal had been trying to tell her when he'd been whisked away by Heidi. Maybe it was a last minute gift for Emily. Grabbing a soda can from the fridge, she made her way back to her couch, planning on finishing the movie she and Cal had started last night.

If only there hadn't been this hapless package sitting on her cupboard, silently beckoning her. Gillian cursed her curiosity and veered off course, taking a closer look at the gift. With a sigh Gillian put down her plate and searched for a nametag on the present. None. Figures. Couldn't have been that easy, now could it? She tried to lift it with her free hand but found that the gift was actually quite heavy. She frowned and her interest was definitely piqued now. She quickly balanced her can and plate on top of the package and then carried it over to the couch in the living room with both hands.

While she ate her roast beef sandwich, the gift sat mockingly on her coffee table. There was a blue ribbon tied around the present very asymmetrically. Gillian debated whether or not to open it. Whether or not it was intended for her in the first place. Even if it was for her, shouldn't she keep it until tomorrow now? Put it underneath Cal's tree and watch him while she opened it? That's when she realised the hapless package must have been wrapped by Cal himself. He'd never done that before. Would he really go to such great lengths for Wallowski? Gillian felt sick to her stomach. No, no, he wouldn't do that. Not after what he told her repeatedly last night and this morning. He wouldn't go all the trouble to wrap a package for Wallowski and never for her. Wouldn't he have just left it in the car if it had been for someone else? Or taken it with him this morning? But if the gift had always been intended for her in the first place, why hadn't he given it to her? Had he tried to give it to her before they got interrupted by Heidi?

But why didn't he say anything last night? Didn't he want to see her reaction when she opened it? What on earth did he get her? In a strange way, it touched her even more that he'd actually taken the time to wrap her gift himself than the fact that he had actually gotten one. She hadn't. She'd been so angry with him, she'd put it off until it was too late. She didn't feel too bad about it because she didn't really expect him to even bother ordering a romance novel from Amazon this year. Until now.

And yet here it was, this misshapen package with a hapless blue ribbon tied around it, which she couldn't bring herself to open. She wanted to watch Cal's face while she opened it. It was already the best gift she'd ever gotten, from Cal or anyone – just because he'd done it all by himself. Usually he contracted the wrapping out to Emily. She could just see him sitting behind his desk in his office armed with scissors and a tape dispenser, trying to hold the paper in place, while measuring out how much exactly he needed.

Ah, screw it. Curiosity finally got the better of her and she pulled at one end of the blue ribbon, which immediately resolved into a tight knot. Of course. _Cal_, she sighed. He really was a hopeless case in the arts and crafts department. She got up and fetched a pair of scissors to cut the ribbon off. She carefully peeled the tape off of the left side of the gift. She'd always been the kind of person who opened her gifts slowly. Alec hated it. It drove him crazy. But Gillian loved those final moments of anticipation and curiosity about what she would find underneath the wrapping paper. Sure, many times disappointment awaited her, but the few times where she was truly blown away by what she uncovered were etched into her memory forever. She peeked inside but couldn't see anything but a mass of brown carton. Gillian frowned and opened the other side and pushed the box out.

Her eyes widened with surprise when she realised she was staring at a shoebox. Cal had gotten her…shoes? That can't be right. The box was far too heavy for shoes…unless it contained ski boots. More than surprised and a little impatient she quickly lifted the cover and stared at a pile of sheets, neatly bound, resting in the middle of the box. Gillian fell back against the couch, exhaling slowly.

His manuscript. He had given her his manuscript for Christmas. He'd really done it. He'd finished writing his book before the holidays to make sure he wouldn't jeopardise the company's future in the new year. And that really explained why he had been so secretive about it. The first three chapters they'd swapped back and forth between them; Gillian offering her input as he tried to map out where to go in this book. He wasn't happy with any of the results, and she'd wondered whether that was because they'd lost their magic touch working together. Then a few weeks ago, when she'd asked if he'd gotten any further, he just nodded his head absent-mindedly but made no attempt to give the new material to her. She once asked him if he needed advice and he brushed her off abruptly, turning all secretive on her. She'd chalked it up to another one of his moods and considered it another nail in the coffin that was slowly becoming their relationship. He didn't even want her thoughts on his book anymore.

In reality, however, it seemed as if he'd wanted to surprise her. She felt touched that he knew how much it meant to her that he got his book done and got the publisher hounds off their backs. All the time he seemed so indifferent and aloof about it, when she'd pressured him, making her belief he didn't care about it but he had listened. And he had cared. Enough for him to sit down on his pretty little ass and type out what looked to be a whopping four hundred pages.

Gillian looked at the title: _Truth or Happiness_. She frowned.

He used to remind her frequently that truth and happiness were two irreconcilable concepts. You could have truth, or happiness – but never both. Gillian, in terms, rose to his challenge every time defending her stance – or as Cal called it her naivety – that not everyone in this world was out there trying to get you and screw you over. She'd always thought Cal was the living example for her faith in humanity. He was a little rough around the edges, sure, and his methods had always been a little unorthodox, most definitely; but he had also dedicated his life to making this world a better place. He'd never really gotten over his mother's suicide, had never forgiven himself for not seeing it coming; and like a dog with a bone, he had not given up until he saw what no one else could. He'd watched his mother's video footage over and over until he literally _saw_ her pain. And as if that were not enough he developed a whole facial coding system to catalogue hundreds of micro-expressions to help end the suffering and catch criminals. If he didn't belief that his truth would eventually lead him back to happiness why had he started down that road in the first place, she always argued.

That usually shut him up for a while or he'd change the subject. They hadn't had this discussion in a long time. When had they grown so distant from each other? Gillian thought back over the last year but was unable to pinpoint the exact moment.

It wasn't just Wallowski. She hated to admit it to herself that she was jealous of the detective. It was ridiculous. She had no right to be jealous. It was not like her, and she had never been in any kind of relationship with Cal that would warrant such a reaction. They weren't married, they weren't dating, they weren't even sleeping with each other – well not until a few hours ago anyway. So why did it bother her so much that Cal spent so much time with this other woman? Even more so, now that they had slept together and decided to give whatever it was that was between them a try, she bristled at the thought that Cal was going to work with the detective again. He'd sworn to her that there had never been anything between him and Wallowski and she believed him. She knew he would never lie to her about something like that, and more importantly, she could feel it, see it on his face, last night when they were making love. She was the only one he wanted to be with. So where was all this insecurity coming from?

He had changed so much in the last years, she didn't even know where to begin. When they'd met, he'd swept her off her feet with his intelligence and compassion. She'd never really known him when he worked at the DoD until they sent him in for a psych evaluation, so she didn't know how much the rumours about "the rogue scientist" were true. She'd read about his questionable behaviour on a few missions but every time she dug deeper than the departmental complaint, she wound up with a reasonable explanation why he had acted the way he did. She didn't get too far though because after the third set of inquiries she was whistled back and threatened by Cal's former boss.

Sure, Cal liked to antagonise people and could be a confrontational man, but the Cal she'd met almost ten years ago hated violence and tried to use his science to prevent it. Her Cal would have never gone off gallivanting in the streets of Maryland looking for trouble with a crooked cop. The man she met was a scientist at heart who'd been perfectly content to give up his DoD issued tag and gun when he'd left the Pentagon. He didn't even like guns. Gillian knew. Cal had shared with her how traumatising he'd actually found it in the Kosovo being surrounded by firearms day and night, even though he was even nowhere near close to the hot war zones. She'd also seen him instinctively duck every time a gun was pulled. When had that all changed? When had he started to seek out danger for the thrill of it?

It wasn't the serial rapist case. Cal had used the long con as a means to an end to uncover the truth. And he would've never done it in the first place had he known a single hair on her body would be touched. He certainly didn't ask to be held at gunpoint by Matheson, nor did he invite the farmer to park a tractor full of explosives outside their office building.

Terry. When she thought about it, it all started when his old friend Terry from London entered the picture. His visit must have triggered something in Cal, for he became a lot more reckless after that. He didn't initially seek out the thrill actively but she started to notice that he secretly thrived on it. She wondered whether that was the need Cal had for Wallowski. Hanging out with a crooked cop fed his need for danger. Could Wallowski be Cal's enabler? Was that the void the detective filled that she herself couldn't, Gillian wondered? But where was that need coming from in the first place? It must have something to do with Cal's shady past in London. He never talked about his time in England; she'd practically had to drag the story about his mother out of his nose. Gillian had no idea how Terry's family figured into Cal's past, though he certainly seemed indebted to them. She pieced together that Cal and Terry had been running a scam business on the real estate market. She had a hard time reconciling that with the Cal she knew. Quite honestly it had been a shock because even if Cal had been someone who didn't always go by the book, he never danced around the law for his own gain. Terry apparently went to jail for Cal, who got his act together and severed his ties to the underworld. She wondered how he got into Oxford. Did he get caught along with Terry but struck a deal based on his talents? If he told her she couldn't remember. Maybe the scams were to get money together to pay for tuition? At least that would give his criminal past a slightly more positive edge than mere acquisitiveness.

The truth was she was scared. He had changed so much she barely recognised in him the Cal she'd met ten years ago. He reminded her too much of Alec. It wasn't that she didn't notice the changes in her ex-husband. She did. But they weren't nearly half as dramatic as Cal's erratic jumps in behaviour. Alec had changed little by little and Gillian never really thought about it. He was evolving, maturing. And so was their relationship, or so she told herself. No couple stayed in their honeymoon phase forever, she knew that. And people changed.

The covert displays of affection went first. She understood that Alec didn't feel lovey-dovey with her when they attended dinner functions. That was his work place. Unfortunately, the state department had a lot of evening events and they rarely had chances to date on the outside. In the beginning, though, Alec couldn't keep his hands off her. He always touched her, always had his arm around her, always making sure she was with him. Or so she thought. In hindsight, he was probably showing the other males in the room what a beauty he'd landed. Not so much a display of affection, after all, just a juvenile display of masculine pride. She never thought she could be considered a trophy wife – well, minus the age difference.

Then their first big fight occurred over who was going to move in with whom. Gillian had just bought an apartment she'd fallen completely in love with. Alec had been living in his for five years and was unwilling to move, either. He, too, had finally paid off his loans and grown attached to the place. Not emotionally as she was, but he'd been so set in his habits he didn't want to leave. He liked to know where things were. He didn't like the location of Gillian's apartment. Gillian thought Alec's place was inconveniently located for her daily commute to the Pentagon, tacking on another hour in traffic for her. They ended up staying at their respective places for another half year. She should have known then.

He proposed. Six months later he cooked dinner for her, went down on his knee and proposed in a very old-fashioned style. She hadn't expected it. She'd never been asked before and she found herself saying yes without even thinking. The doubts came later. Her mother told her it was normal. That everyone had doubts, when they were making big decisions. Alec had been so happy, so enthusiastic about their impending wedding, it rubbed off on her. She wanted to be that happy, too. If she made Alec so incredibly happy, marrying him couldn't possibly go wrong. She was just scared of the changes is all.

Alec had been so forthcoming and compromising as they began to merge two lives into one. He'd been secretly looking at houses and one day just packed Gillian into his car and drove out into one of the suburbs – blindfolding her and all. He'd picked the perfect house. She knew it the minute he took off the neck scarf and she looked at the large Victorian house. She realised that even though Alec had been unwilling to budge an inch on the topic of moving in with her he had listened to her when she'd listed all the things she liked about her apartment. He found a house that had the same charm, the same old architectonic quirks she loved so much about her place. And most important of all, it had a big bay window.

Gillian loved those old houses with big bay windows. When she grew up, the house on the opposite side of their street had one of those huge bay windows. When her father had been drinking again and was clumsily rumbling around their house, Gillian looked at the bay window on the other side of the street and imagined what it would be like to live there. She'd bet people with huge bay windows never drank but sat in their living room, reading books in the bright light all day, occasionally gazing out of the window, watching people as they passed by.

Alec drew her out of her reverie when he explained with a twinkle in his eye that it came with three bedrooms and a large garden for their children. He dangled the keys in front of her and an hour and a tour through the house later, they called the realtor to put down an offer. Between the move and the wedding her doubts had been drowned out. Everything was coming together. Professionally and personally. Life was good.

At some point Alec had stopped asking her what to wear for work. At some point she stopped asking him if she looked good in her new dress. She didn't know when. They just knew what the other one thought and liked and stopped bothering. Long breakfasts in the morning grew shorter as they started to leave for work earlier and earlier. Briefs needed finishing touches; psych evaluations had to be completed before the morning meeting. Something was always left undone at their office when they left the night before.

One of the things she'd looked forward to when buying the house were cosy evenings spent cuddling on their couch in the living room. They hadn't even used the fireplace once since they moved in. Their jobs kept them busy. When they finally came home exhausted all they wanted was a hot shower and a comfy bed. At some point they fell into a routine.

They waited for children who never came along. Everything would be different once they had kids, Gillian thought. They'd cut down on work hours; maybe she'd stay home until the kids went to kindergarten. She could work from home; perhaps do some private counselling, so their income wouldn't suffer. A big house had meant a big mortgage to pay off. Three years into their marriage it was clear that their perfect 1.6 children wouldn't happen. Fertility treatments took their toll on their marriage until Alec couldn't take it anymore and proposed to look into adoption. Gillian felt like a failure that she couldn't give her husband any children, Alec couldn't bear to see the disappointment and feeling of inadequacy on Gillian's face with every failed pregnancy test. Adoption really seemed the best angle to tackle their problem he argued.

He was always so rational. That was what she loved so much about him and drew her to him in the first place. She could always rely on Alec to keep calm and rational when her emotions got the better of her. She didn't think Alec Foster had ever rushed to a decision. She'd never thought she'd come to resent Alec's rationality. But when they took Sophie away and her world was falling apart, she began to hate her husband who tried to rationalise their loss. There was nothing logical about losing a child. There was nothing rational about the law taking their daughter away. It just wasn't fair. It sucked. Plain and simple.

She couldn't understand how he could stay so calm. Cal had said that Alec was just trying to be strong for her but at a time when she should have been turning to her husband for comfort, it was Cal's shoulder she found herself crying on. She couldn't stand looking at Alec. Gillian's grief turned into anger and she started to lash out at Alec, fed up with his passivity. She found the pathetic excuse of a man he'd turned into repulsive. Alec was just sitting there trying to rationalise what couldn't be made any sense of.

That was when Cal had interfered. The one and only time he had truly crossed the line and meddled with her personal life. He'd picked up on Gillian's hostility towards Alec when her husband had tried to come and pick her up for late dinner at work. She'd dismissed him harshly and Cal had grabbed her and shoved her into his study, locking the doors behind him. She'd just stared at him as if he'd gone crazy and then Cal confronted her. He was not going to watch her as she poured ten years of marriage down the drain. Even now, years later, she still couldn't believe she had so much pent up anger and frustration inside her that she'd hit him. Not once. Not twice. She slapped him and then… She'd attacked him, yelling at him that he had no idea what she was going through. He just stood there, taking her hits, occasionally fending her off when she came too close to breaking his nose. He didn't say a single word once she started to punch him, and just let her emotions run their course, until she showed signs of physical and emotional exhaustion. Without a word he overpowered her and enveloped her in his arms. She didn't put up a fight anymore but slumped tired and drained against his strong body instead, drawing comfort from his presence.

She didn't go home that night. She slept in the guest room at Cal's house. She should have felt wretched that another man provided her with the comfort and patient ear she'd so desperately needed from Alec, but she didn't. She'd tried. She made more than one attempt to reach out to Alec to grieve together but he didn't really want to talk about Sophie. He'd even gone so far as to clearing out Sophie's room while she was at work. When Gillian had come home to find the empty nursery, she'd felt like someone had stabbed her in the middle of her heart. She could actually _feel_ the throbbing pain in her chest. She had trouble breathing. This must be what a heart attack felt like.

She'd made the cumbersome journey into the den where Alec sat quietly reading a crime thriller. Who was that man in her living room? She didn't recognise the stranger who occupied her favourite spot on the couch. Alec looked up at his wife, smiled with effort, and then poked his nose back into his novel as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. He was probably proud of himself. He thought he did her a favour by removing the last ghosts of Sophie from their life, thinking they could move on. Gillian couldn't. Not for a long while, for the ghost of Sophie had lodged into her soul and refused to leave. But in the quiet of Cal's study, she was finally ready to start the grieving process. He'd never know but that night Cal had saved her marriage…well salvaged what little there was left to keep her going for another two years.

Alec waited for her, when she came home the next day. They talked. They sat down, took stock of their marriage and talked for hours. Like they did when they'd just started seeing each other. When had they stopped doing that? She'd loved those endless conversations in the solitude of the night, about life, the future, their wishes and dreams, their insecurities and hopes. It was they against the world. When had they stopped being interested in each other's plans? Life happened just didn't seem a good enough excuse.

It worked for a while but in the end it proved not to be enough. Big bay windows couldn't buy you happiness after all. If Alec hadn't relapsed she might have ended it sooner. She took her marriage vows more seriously than she thought and so she stayed with Alec, in sickness and in health. She found it amusing when Cal tried to hint to her that Alec was cheating or keeping something from her, when they had both been keeping something from Cal together. Alec actually never tried to hide his past from her. Most women would have packed their things and run the other way. Gillian had stayed. Almost as if to make a point to herself. She didn't run away from problems. She always faced them heads on. So what if Alec had a little drug problem in the past. He'd gotten himself help, he was active in his programme, and she had experience with her father, a recovering alcoholic. She could do this. And she did. For eleven years, she was strong enough for both. But then Sophie happened and suddenly the façade of her happy marriage began to crumble. The loss of Sophie served as a catalyst to open her eyes to how much Alec had changed from the man she'd married into this shallow shell of a human being. He had completely retreated into himself, she realised, they'd stopped talking, really talking with each other, a long time before Sophie came and went. He hadn't even tried to hide from her that he was taking drugs again. He didn't tell her directly, but the way he acted around her told her he didn't care that she found out. Alec had always been an open book for her.

Cal, however, could be an enigma when he wanted. She knew little about his past, it was as if Cal Lightman didn't really exist before he walked into her office almost ten years ago. It scared her what he might have been up to before he became an upstanding citizen. If his current behaviour was any indicator of what he might have been like as a young man, she didn't want to know. Terry's visit probably dredged up old memories Cal had done everything to bury, which were now coming back to haunt him. She knew Cal. He was the type who didn't think he deserved what he got, so he subconsciously manipulated his environment until he fucked a situation completely up in a self-fulfilling prophecy. _Oh, Cal._ Truth or happiness. Never both.

She sighed, "Oh Cal, why can't you for once take a freaking leaf out of my book?" She'd show him how it's done. That it _can_ be done. And that's when she realised that this was maybe what his visit last night was all about. He was trying. So hard. He just didn't know how. And why had she never thought about this before? She'd been so quick to judge Cal, not giving him the benefit of doubt. She'd been hurt by his actions so much she never bothered to stop getting to the bottom of his change in behaviour. He'd pissed her off too many times in too short a while, she felt like he did it all to spite her. Make her pay for something she had even no idea she'd done. She should've known better. He was a troubled soul after all.

Lost in her thoughts, Gillian flipped the title page absent-mindedly over, only to reveal the dedication on the next one:

_To Emily and Gillian,_

_The only two women in my life in my life I truly want to understand but never will because they continue to amaze me with their love, passion and strength every day._


	8. Chapter 8

Emily opened the door and looked at her father, "Dad! I've been worried sick! Why haven't you been returning my calls?"

"Merry Christmas to you too." Cal leaned in an placed a kiss on his daughter's cheek. He looked at her as he squeezed himself through the small space in the doorway, "Can I come in, can I?"

"Sure!" Emily stepped aside and gauged her father warily. Something was off and not just because he'd ignored her previous accusations. She watched him unlace his boots and take them off. She chuckled knowingly. Grandma ran a tight ship even in her daughter's household. When she was younger, Emily and her father teased Grandma by putting their feet on the coffee tables or sneaking through the house with wet clothes or dirty shoes. Until they got caught and got a tongue-lashing from Grandma.

"Cal, is that you?" Her grandfather called from the living room.

"Yes, Jerry. I'll be with you in a second, I'm taking my boots off." Cal retorted and earned a deep male chuckle in resonse. When he was done, he straightened up and scrutinized his daughter, "Where's your mum?"

"In the kitchen", Emily replied and knowing this was code for "what kind of mood is she in" she added, "She's in really high spirits, so count your blessings." She crossed her arms, "What did you do last night?"

Cal looked at his daughter and considered his options. He should be telling her the truth. He had promised Gillian he'd handle Em. "Oh you know, watched a movie…fell asleep on the couch." He groaned inwardly, now he'd have a lot of explaining to do when they picked up Gillian after dinner.

"I called you a couple of times." Emily explained, "I felt bad for you because you were alone."

Cal made a dismissive grimace, "Nah, don't worry about your old man." He put his arm around her shoulders and they ventured down the hallway, ready to greet his ex-parents-in-law. Emily watched her father suspiciously. She wasn't sure but she was pretty damn certain he'd just lied to her.

"Cal!" Emily's grandmother rose from the armchair by the fireside and opened her arms in a welcoming gesture. "How good to see you again!"

Cal returned the hug and kissed the older woman's cheek softly, "Merry Christmas, Peggy. You're looking good as always."

Emily grinned when her grandmother slapped her father's chest and scolded him, "Still the charmer, I see."

"I don't know what you're complaining about. You know I don't condone lying." Cal defended himself. Emily's eyes darkened.

"Don't you mean other people lying?" Jerry Landau piped up from the sofa. He stood up and walked over to his former son-in-law and patted his back.

"I didn't know today's dinner conversation was semantics", Cal replied good-naturedly and returned the pat on his back. "How are you doin'?"

"Can't complain. Enjoying retirement."

"We went to Greece this year." Peggy explained, "I've always dreamed of seeing the Acropolis and finally this year Jerry took me."

"It was a wonderful trip, we brought pictures, you know." Jerry looked at Cal knowingly. A smile hushed over Cal's face and he nodded thankfully for the warning. He'd volunteer for kitchen duty tonight. Peggy had the tendency to take gazillions of pictures on their trips and then give lengthy show and tells to anyone who didn't leave the room fast enough.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to say hi to that beautiful daughter of yours before something goes wrong with the dinner preparations and her mood turns sour."

Peggy laughed and gave Cal a knowing look, "Good luck with that, son, I got kicked out half an hour ago."

As he walked out of the living room, Cal threw over his shoulder, "If I'm not back in ten minutes…I'd like my ashes to be spread across the Potomac…"

Emily excused herself to fetch the gifts Cal had left in the hallway but in reality she followed her father to the kitchen. Something was off about him. He seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood. Was there a light skip in his step? Where had he been last night? She saw her parents exchange chaste kisses and engage in a little banter over Zoë's cooking talents. Like her father could talk. He'd be living off of beans on toast three times a day, seven days a week, if it hadn't been for her incessant protests. And then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Her dad had that look on his face. The one she'd come to dread when he spent time with her mom. Only she would have known if he had spent the night, too. And they wouldn't do that while her grandparents were staying with them.

Emily reeled back in shock. Here she'd felt sorry for her father, thinking he was probably drowning his sorrow and loneliness at the first open bar he could find on Christmas Eve, when in reality he'd gone and picked up a woman. She grimaced in disgust. Worse, what if he'd spent the night at Shazzer's place?

0~0~0~0~0

Dinner turned out to be a quiet affair; everyone complimented Zoë on the excellent dinner. She'd truly outdone herself in the kitchen, which undoubtedly contributed to the good mood at the dinner table. Cal had not seen Peggy and Jerry in a few years and found it actually quite pleasant to catch up with them. When he noticed that the dinner conversation was starting to trickle down, he quickly volunteered for the dishes. Zoë cast him a suspicious glance and he quickly explained that he felt it was his duty to help in the kitchen and she deserved a break for the delicious meal she prepared. She looked at him doubtful but decided against going after him. This was one of the nicest holidays they'd shared, especially after their fight on Thanksgiving; she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

0~0~0~0~0

"You picked up a woman!" Emily ambushed her dad who was loading the dishwasher.

"I beg your pardon?" Cal whirled around and stared at his daughter flabbergasted.

"Did you spend last night with Shazzer?" Emily accused him and Cal picked up on the hurt but also the contempt in her voice.

"I beg your pardon?" He crossed his arms and glared her. "And if I did, it would be none of your bloody business."

"Tell me the truth. You've slept with her."

"Did not!"

"Did, too. I can see it on your face!"

"Excuse me?"

"You think I don't know when you and mom are hooking up together but I can always see it on your face. You get that smug, self-satisfied grin on your face after… you know… you've been alone with her!"

"This conversation's over. I really don't think this is something I have to talk about with you."

"Oh so it's okay for you to interrogate me about what I'm doing with my boyfriends but I'm not allowed to ask something about my new potential step-mothers? You're a hypocrite, dad!"

"So sue me. Your mum would do it pro bono!" And with pleasure, he might add, she loved making him flail and watching him fidget and flounder like a fish out of water.

"What shall I sue your father for, Emily?" Zoë asked catching only the tail end of their conversation. She placed a stack of plates on the kitchen counter.

"Nothing!" Cal and Emily chorused.

"What's going on?" Zoë looked from her daughter to her ex-husband and back. "I'm not an idiot. Don't think for a minute I haven't noticed the silent treatment you've given your father during dinner."

Emily rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in a huff. They looked kind of adorable. Father and daughter standing next to each other with their arms crossed in a defiant gesture. In moments like these Zoë felt reminded how much of Cal was in their daughter. They had the same body posture, the same pouting look.

"What did you do, Cal?"

"Hell, if I know." Cal shrugged his shoulders. He was not going to fess up in a hostile situation like this. "And why is it always me who did something?"

"Saves time", Zoë shrugged her shoulder's nonchalantly and gazed at her daughter.

Emily wavered under her mother's glare and glanced at her father one last time. "I want to go to Katie's new year's party and he won't allow it."

Cal hid his surprise well and quickly came up with an explanation, "There'll be drugs and alcohol." Apparently she wasn't upset enough with him to throw him under the next best bus.

"Oh!" Zoë nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case you need to find another lawyer, Em, cause I'm representing your father in this matter."

Once Zoë disappeared, Emily opened her mouth, "How could you?"

Cal held up his finger, "We're done here, Em. I don't want to hear another word from you on this matter."

"Dad!" She protested vehemently.

"Emily!" he mimicked her and then added, "Go to your room."

"You're..." Emily roared infuriated; lacking the proper word to capture her frustration and disgust with the necessary respect she owed her father. "I don't get you! How could you? Right under Gillian's nose?" Emily accused him before she started to stomp off to the stairs.

"Oi! What's that now supposed to mean? What's Foster got to do with this?"

"Sorry, following your orders." Emily threw over her shoulder. She knew she probably shouldn't have said that last bit, so she kept retreating, but in the heat of the moment it had just slipped out.

"Oi, come back here and answer me." Cal pointed to the floor in front of him. Her father's unrelenting stare was making her uncomfortable and she knew that she wouldn't get out of this one.

She sighed, "It's just for someone who can read people you can really be quite obtuse!"

"What?"

"Have you ever thought how Gillian feels, when you flaunt it to her that you scored another chick?"

"I beg your pardon, watch what you say."

"No, I'm sick of it, dad. I'm sick and tired of the Claras, the Shazzers or whomever you picked up last night."

"May I remind you that it was you who told me I needed to start dating again a little while ago?"

"Dating, dad. Not one-night-stands. You're better than that." When she saw her father's raised eyebrows, she elaborated, "You're a great guy, dad. Overbearing and overprotective, yeah, but you're a nice and decent man. Even Torres said so. I want you to be happy and sleeping with mom or Shazzer isn't gonna do that."

"And pray tell me who in your expert opinion is going to make me happy?"

"Gillian!" She exclaimed as if it was the most logical answer in the world, "Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love her!"

Cal gaped at his daughter's ultimatum. "Of course, I love her. She's my best friend."

Emily rolled her eyes, "You're deflecting, dad. You know what I mean. I'm not blind. You were jealous of Dave and the only reason you've slept with Shazzer last night is to make Gillian jealous. She's more than 'just a friend'." Emily added quotation marks to emphasize her point.

"Best friend, I said", Cal corrected her meekly and interjected, "And for the records, I didn't sleep with Shazzer!"

"Not only do you love Gillian, you're in love with her. But go on and keep telling yourself that you don't. See where that gets you. She'll leave you, you know that, right? If you think you can keep treating her the way you've been doing over the last year, you're a bigger fool than I thought possible."

Cal's lips tightened.

"She's not gonna wait for you forever, dad! I don't understand how two adults can act so stupid! How hard can it be? You love her. She loves you. Any blind man could see that but you two are oblivious."

The thin line of Cal's lips started to give way to a slow spreading smile as he thought back to last night. It did take them a while to get their act together. Neither of them had been ready for declarations of love, but that's where their talents came in handy. He couldn't wait to hear those words coming out of Gillian's mouth but he didn't _need_ to hear them because he could _see_ the love she felt for him. And it had taken him a lot of effort to drop his mask and let her see how much she meant to him. But gosh darn, being with her had felt marvellous. He thought he'd died and gone to heaven when he'd slipped inside her and she brought her arms around his back. He never wanted to leave their cocoon of love ever again.

"Oh God! Oh my! Ew, Dad!" Emily jumped slightly back, "Tell me you didn't!"

"What did I do now?" He asked having not paid any attention to his daughter the last couple of moments.

"Oh my God. You... and Gillian... and you…and aw! You were with Gill last night! Daaaad! That's _not_ how it was supposed to go! You weren't supposed to sleep with Gillian!"

Cal threw his hands up in defeat, "You need to make up your bloody mind. First you tell me to go after Foster, then you tell me off for sleeping with her. I really don't know what you want from me. And you know what? I don't think you know either. So let's end this discussion right now."

"_Marry_ her!" Emily groaned, "Not have a _one-night-stand_ with her because you two feel _lonely_ over Christmas!" Argh! He got it all wrong! He's going to ruin everything. He really couldn't be left unsupervised for more than an hour. Her mother and Gillian were right. He needed a babysitter around the clock.

Cal gaped at his daughter. Speechless didn't even come close to how he felt at his daughter's revelation.

"Call her!" She instructed. They needed to do damage control before Gillian got the wrong impression. "Tell her you love her and you can't live without her and that last night was a mistake."

Cal broke out into laughter. He began to find his daughter's meddling extremely amusing and the whole conversation, scratch that, the whole situation was bordering on the hilarious. Emily glared at her father. He didn't take her serious!

"I don't think telling her that sleeping with her was a mistake is going to make her feel better, love."

"Riiight... You need to court her, dad, really woe her, so she knows she's not one of your flings." Emily stopped and looked at her father with begging eyes, "She isn't one of your flings, is she?"

"Oi, come here, Em." Cal gestured and opened his arms. Emily bit her lower lip and reluctantly walked over until she was enveloped in her father's embrace. "You scheming little monster you," He mumbled affectionately into her hair, "I should be cross with you for meddling in my love life."

"Someone has to, dad, or you'll end up alone like a crazy cat lady when I go off to college. And you need someone to look after you when I'm gone. And Gillian's perfect, she really is, and if you really looked at her you'd know she's not just a friend." Emily looked up and Cal looked down.

"No she isn't." Cal agreed, "She's not just a fling, either." Emily smiled widely. "And she knows that, too. I made sure of it before I left her earlier."

"I knew it. I knew it." If possible, Emily's smile grew even wider.

"Now I don't know exactly what you've been planning for Gill and me but how about you'll let me take it from here? We don't want to scare her off by proposing marriage right away, ok?"

"Deal." Emily chuckled, "That was further down the line anyway. I mean first you guys have to go out on a proper date."

"Of course." Cal replied amused, "But I am glad to know that if the topic ever comes up between Gill and me some time in the very distant future you'll back us up one hundred per cent." Cal rubbed his knuckles gently across Emily's head.

"I love you, dad, I just want you to be happy." Emily whispered and pressed her head into Cal's shoulder.

"I love you, too, Em." Cal kissed her head softly through her hair. Their moment was interrupted when Zoë breezed into the kitchen again.

"Oh look at you two, you made up." Zoë smiled.

"Yeah", Emily sighed, "Dad's convinced me it might not be so bad to celebrate New Years Eve with him."

"Oh!" Zoë looked surprised. She'd expected drawn-out debates, days of moping and whining, and slamming doors. Is this what the _end_ of puberty looked like? Had they made it past that stage? Had they come out unscathed from every parent's living nightmare?

Cal grinned smugly, "Yeah, might even plan a surprise or two over the holidays." Father and daughter looked at each other conspiratorially. "Don't worry, I'll return her in one piece in the New Year."

"You better, you owe me! That was a very mean trick you pulled on me tonight, mister!"

Emily looked at her father worried. Did she know? If her mom found out about Gillian, she'd blow up. Cal gave his daughter a reassuring squeeze, knowing what Zoë was referring to.

"They are _your_ parents." Cal countered.

"They are _my_ dishes!" Zoë threw back.

And suddenly it clicked with Emily. They were referring to Grandma showing around her vacation pictures. Because her dad had volunteered to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen her mom had no excuse. The teenager breathed a sigh of relief. Christmas was safe. This was just a good-natured banter between her parents trying to weasel their way out of the boring part of the evening. Well, she'd show them.

"I'll finish the kitchen." Emily announced and her parents narrowed their eyes at their daughter. "There, problem solved." She grabbed each one by the hand and led them out of the kitchen, "And don't forget to ooh and ahhh when it's appropriate. We don't want them to think you two fell asleep."

Emily grinned from ear to ear as she listened to her parents walk down the corridor arguing whether she was Cal's or Zoë's daughter.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reviewing, I usually don't comment too much on reviews, though I read them when I have time, but someone questioned the need for condoms. I know fan fiction is a fairytale land but even though this story is slightly out of character, I'd still like to keep it real. Unprotected sex in real life is dangerous, especially with a manwhore like Cal Lightman. Nevertheless, Cal strikes me as a responsible manwhore, so I want to believe that when he gets the chance to sleep with Gillian he'd take the necessary precautions to avoid STDs. And on a related side note - I don't think we ever learned WHY Gillian can't have any children. There's a chance she can get pregnant but can't carry a child to term, or doing so might be life threatening for her, in which case it would just be outright cruel and reckless to have unprotected sex with her. Just my two cents. Also, please consider this your warning that we're closer to the end than we were to the beginning with this story - in case you haven't already guessed. Only three or four chapters left.<em>


	9. Chapter 9

Gillian dropped the leaf in her hand as if she'd been burnt by fire and looked up around the room. She reprimanded herself for her childish reaction; of course no one was watching her. No one had seen it because no one was there. She was alone, in her house. And even if, it was Cal's decision not hers. She felt so flattered. She'd never had a book dedicated to her. Cal had dedicated his first book to his mother posthumously. Gillian never expected to find her name next to Emily's, never mind the touching words that accompanied the dedication. She amazed him. She snickered. Served him right, for all the times he'd confused her with his strange behaviour!

She leaned forward and lifted the bound manuscript out of the shoebox. She thumbed it quickly through. Wow. 387 pages. Considering Cal had had no idea what to write he had a lot to say in the end. She flipped over the title page and the dedication and saw Emily's foreword. She quickly scanned it through and smiled, reading about Emily's experience of living with a human lie detector for a father. The teenager really had a way with words, definitely not a character trait she'd inherited from her father, who almost always seemed to struggle expressing himself verbally.

She laughed out loud when Emily admitted at the end that she _did_ cause the fire in their backyard eight years ago and asked Cal not to ground her when he read this. There was a note from Cal to Emily after her foreword: "Don't worry, you're not grounded. But just for that lie I wrote a whole chapter on you and included an embarrassing picture."

It had always warmed her heart to see Cal interact with his daughter. They were so cute together. He could be in the grouchiest mood from interviewing a criminal scumbag but the minute Emily walked into a room his eyes lit up and his spirits lifted. Cal was a great father and Emily kept him grounded… and from taking too high risks. They actually had a very mature relationship, Cal never talked down to her because she was a child. Even when Emily was a six-year-old, Cal treated her like a little adult with her own personality. She'd giggled the first time she'd seen an exchange between Cal and Emily, which revolved around the correct use of the word ubiquitous. She'd never met a six-year-old before who knew what ubiquitous meant, let alone argue about its correct use in a sentence. No wonder Emily would go on to sweep the board of local spelling bee competitions. Cal had garnered her awards in his study like prized possession; one might be misled he'd won them.

Gillian perused the table of contents and realised that this book took on a much more personal nature than the first one and had completely changed from the first draft he'd shown her. From what she gleaned from the chapter titles, Cal had mixed professional cases with personal stories. Zoë and Emily each had their own chapter; she presumed that _Radical Honesty_ and _Naturals_ dealt with Loker and Ria respectively. _The Long Con_ was undoubtedly about the Jenkins case. _Cheating Spouses_ was a no brainer. _Devils in Disguise_ was probably about Martin. Gillian began to flip back and forth between the table of contents and the chapters to confirm her suspicions. She wondered whether _A Fine Line_ was her – the only name she couldn't find among the list of names or telling descriptors in the table of contents was hers. That stung a little. Even Terry had made it there. His parents. And some Bonnie. Who on earth was Bonnie? He'd never mentioned her before. She also must be someone from his past. Maybe a mutual friend of his and Terry's? Gillian hated to admit it, but after last night especially, it hurt just a little bit that she didn't make it into his book. Even Loker had! She told herself that Cal was writing his book while they weren't exactly on speaking terms at work, so he probably didn't want to drag his work problems into his new book. Writer's block was the last thing he needed. Never mind the part where Zoë would blow a fuse if she found out Gillian made her way into his book.

Gillian put the manuscript on her coffee table and went into the kitchen to get a glass of wine. There was just enough left over from last night. Then she settled onto her couch, nestled into her favourite throw, and began to read Cal's introduction.

_I had a hard time writing this book. In fact, I had such a hard time writing this book that I briefly considered signing up for Facebook when, luckily for me, I stumbled across an online poker website. Truth be told, I didn't know what to write. I gave you the science in my first book, what more do you want? What more could you need? You have the science now use it or leave it be. Right?_

_Wrong. Maybe writing my first book was a mistake. Maybe I opened a can of worms I cannot close again. At the time it seemed like a good idea to share with the world what I know but now I am not so certain anymore. Let me tell you why in this book. _

_If there is one thing I've learned in my life, it is that you can have truth or happiness but never both. Knowing what someone else is feeling, being able to remotely guess what someone might be thinking, is less of a blessing than a curse in real life. Don't get me wrong, it's really great in my line of work to pick out the liars and the cheaters and take home a mighty pay check for an hour's worth of looking someone in the face – especially if it happens to be the one of a pretty trophy wife._

_You see the problem is you may know that someone is lying, but you don't really know why. You can't read that on a face. You need to dig deeper for that. You need to communicate to get to the bottom of the problem. I learned that the hard way. It cost me a marriage that had no chance of surviving under the scrutiny I put my wife through every day, calling her out on the slightest signs of deception I could detect. A friend taught me that the _why_ is just as important as the _how_ people are lying; unfortunately by the time she imparted that wisdom onto me, it was already too late for my marriage. I thought I was the perfect husband, building my marriage on a foundation of truth, but as my ex-wife once told me, there really is such a thing as too much honesty in a marriage._

_Having relationships is not easy when you have my talents. I cannot turn it off. I can see everything. I know when my daughter doesn't want to go to summer camp anymore, even though she's trying to convince me of the opposite. I see when my date is more interested in the cute but possibly underage waiter who serves our table. My friends can't throw me a surprise party for my birthday because I read it on their face the minute they hatch the plan. Which, let me tell you, is all in all a good thing because birthday parties suck in the first place._

_I don't know, though, why my daughter doesn't want to go to summer camp anymore. She probably doesn't know yet herself. But I can see it and I have to make the decision whether to call her out on her lie or leave it be and let her figure it out on her own. I don't know why a woman finds the waiter more interesting than me. Is he more attractive? Am I too old? Do I bore her? Hell, if I know._

_Let me be clear. I understand very little, least of all the people around me. So if I, who developed and perfected this science, don't really understand the people around me, how could I unleash such a beast on you the readers? The least I can do is show you when my science works and when it doesn't, so you won't make the same mistakes. Let me give you a hint, my science works great at my job and I have compiled a few of the more interesting cases my company has consulted on in the last five years. But if you think you know the science after reading my first book and are ready to confront your husband about his philandering ways…he may just be hanging out at the golf club with his mates or trying to surprise you for your birthday._

A warm tingle spread through Gillian's body as she read Cal's introduction. She had no trouble recognising herself in "his friend" and in a way it was ironic that both of them had helped salvage each other's respective marriages, even if it was too little and came too late.

She continued reading, and the first chapter _A Fine Line_ dealt with Cal coming to terms with running his own company without alienating his staff. He focused on working relationships, managing subordinates and the guiding principles they'd come up for the company's mission and their workplace environment. She chuckled when Cal recounted how during the first month their research staff showed up late in the mornings, rotating through a roster of lame but creative excuses to test their new boss's patience. Cal turned it into a game to train them in facial recognition and picked a liar of the day and asked the rest of the staff to find out which one among them was the liar and what the three lies were they'd told them over the course of the morning. Gillian had made it a fixture of their early company retreats to build a good workplace environment. It also described how their professional relationship grew from mutual respect into a wonderful friendship. Gillian chuckled, when Cal accredited her people skills for the fact that the staff hadn't quit yet or staged a mutiny – thank God for company retreats. Gillian enjoyed the walk down memory lane as Cal recounted the founding years of their company and inevitably delved into their famous "line", pondering how far it was appropriate to meddle into someone else's life when they weren't just a business partner but had also become your best friend.

Cal began the second chapter with a mini rant about the plights of fatherhood, especially raising a beautiful and smart teenage daughter. He confessed he thought about hiring a contractor to build a dungeon in his house when boys started to notice his Emily but then his divorce happened and it would have been a mute point anyway because of a shared custody agreement. As he wrote on, Cal grew more serious, detailing how fantastic he thought his science was when Emily was a baby and toddler and he could know with just a look at her face what she needed. It was a surprise Emily learned to talk at all, given that her father had catalogued her cries and facial expressions after five months, laying out when she was hungry, hurting, tired or just looking for attention and closeness. Cal admitted that writing about it made him realise how frustrating this connection must have been for his young wife. Just a glance at her chubby toddler face and he knew Emily needed a hug because something had made her sad. A little flick of her eyes and he knew she hadn't washed her hands before dinner. Nothing went by him. He felt like _Superdad_ and the way Emily looked up to him really made him believe he wore a cape and had a big capital S emblazoned on his chest. He was her hero and he admitted it was the best feeling he'd ever experienced. Better than catching #2 on the FBI's most wanted list, better than being the world's leading expert in deception detection, better than sex.

Gillian was touched as she read about Cal's struggles as a young father who was juggling toddler tantrums and terrorists. His work often kept him away from his family for periods of time and made him realise that he was bringing up a child in a world that got increasingly more dangerous and unsafe with every day she lived. Despite his best efforts in counter-terrorism, there was nothing he could really do to ensure Emily's safety, short of shrouding her in ten layers of bubble wrap. So how did you raise a child when you spent more time with the darkest elements of humanity than with your family? It doesn't get easier as they grow, Cal explained. Far from it. The cute little girl with ponytails turns into a moping teenager, a cell phone replaces the umbilical cord, and super dad becomes the ogre who won't let her date and go out to parties. And you wish you could explain to them, why you are so protective, because the world is a scary and unsafe place but you don't want them to grow up paranoid, either. So what do you do?

In the end, Cal reasoned, he realised that nothing of all that would matter if he didn't raise his daughter to become a self-confident, compassionate and smart young woman. And Emily had really done him proud. He admitted that all fathers claimed that their baby was the most beautiful one in the maternity ward, the smartest kid in school and the prettiest girl to have ever graced the earth. Only in his case, it was true.

Gillian laughed out loud, when she flipped the page and saw which picture Cal had included to illustrate his point. It looked similar to the one he had of Emily in his office, the one where she was wearing the over–sized sun glasses but on this one she was sticking out her tongue and pulling the corners of her mouth apart with her index fingers. _A real keeper that one, isn't she ,_ the caption read and Gillian remembered Cal threatening to get back at Emily for the lie she confessed in her foreword.

Cal finished the chapter with a brief list of typical teenager lies he'd encountered with his own daughter. He explained for parents how to spot when their children were lying about their homework, sneaking out for parties or meeting friends. Cal described how he tried to handle the situations, when to trust his daughter's judgement and when to call her on her deception. He made it clear, though, that he would never let it slide if Emily lied about drugs or alcohol. He drew the line at his concern for her safety and well-being. Using a white lie because she got an F on an arts project was one thing, lying about flunking the SAT required a sit down and talk. Not that his darling brilliant daughter could ever flunk the SAT. Cal confessed that he actually enjoyed the little games Emily played with him, seeing if she could sneak a lie past him. And he admitted that sometimes she succeeded. Like with the fire.

He conceded that children and teenagers were entitled to their own secrets in the process of forming their own identities. A concept that was so foreign to him originally, that he had a hard time coming to terms with the idea his little girl might want to hide something from him. It took him a while to understand that if he didn't accept that as part of Emily growing up, he would lose her forever. He had to pick and choose his battles and trust that Emily would come to him for advice when she needed it. He could only hope that giving her the space she needed would ultimately encourage her to share more of her life with him than hide it.

Gillian thought back to last summer when Cal had freaked out about Emily losing her virginity. He probably still hadn't recovered from the shock that she'd managed to hide that from him for as long as she did. And again, she had no problem identifying herself as the friend who imparted her wisdom – though Cal had called it psychobabble at the time – onto him. In a way that felt almost more flattering than if she'd gotten her own chapter. It showed how inextricably linked her and Cal's lives were even before they'd started dating. They'd always been an item, professionally, intellectually and now even romantically. They were two sides of a coin.

She skimmed the next chapter, which dealt with one of their very first cases, the church bomber, which they often used as a case study in their seminar talks. Gillian laughed out loud when she read Cal's last footnote on the _Cheating Spouses_ chapter: "If you're now thinking about hiring me for your divorce, please call the following hotline: 212-555-2342." Gillian looked up and reached for a pencil that conveniently lay on her coffee table. She quickly made a note to call Cal's publisher and tell them to edit that footnote out… For she'd immediately recognised the number as belonging to Radar's firm. Nice try, Cal, passing off those cases to Radar.

Gillian soaked up Cal's writing, browsing through the case chapters and indulging in the ones where he explored his interpersonal relationships; and before she knew it she'd arrived at the final chapter. She wiggled her eyebrows in anticipation of finally learning more about this Bonnie but she stopped dead after reading the first sentence.

_It has been said that every Bonnie needs her Clyde – so naturally this Clyde would be nothing without his Bonnie._

Gillian gasped. He wouldn't. He didn't. Her heart suddenly started beating faster and her hands grew a little sweaty. She'd really not expected her own chapter after the numerous references to her throughout the book. And the fact that he referenced their conversation in the car, made the whole thing even more endearing to her. She continued reading.

_I met my partner in crime many years ago at the Pentagon. For matters of national security I am not at liberty to tell you how exactly our paths crossed, but Bonnie quickly impressed me with her perceptive skills and her ability to read people. In fact, she told me right off the bat in one of our first meetings, where the fault in my work lied, namely, that I am predominantly interested in deception detection without digging deeper for motivation. I knew she was a keeper right then and there. I _should have known_ I was in trouble right then and there._

_Most people grow very uncomfortable around me, when they learn what I do for a living, and even in professional circles, people clam up and eye me suspiciously while keeping their distance. I definitely think it's no coincidence that I always have breakfast alone at conferences. Bonnie, however, had no reservations at all, on the contrary she went toe to toe with me right from the start. I loved it. Finally someone who understood me and challenged my work. Bonnie saw beyond the immediate application of my work in counter terrorism for which it was developed and lectured me on how much greater good my work could do if I rendered my services to other agencies, even in the private sector. It was just a question of time until I recruited Bonnie to work with me, when I left the Defense Department. She will insist that I practically fell down on my knees and promised her the moon and the sky if she started a private consulting firm with me, and of course she'd be telling you the absolute truth. _

_For the truth is, I could not do my work without Bonnie. She's the one who keeps the company ship afloat and the disgruntled employees from strangling me during lunch break. True story, I was once attacked by a suspect during an interrogation. I'd misjudged his level of distress and antagonised him too much. Before I knew what had happened he had me in a headlock and was squeezing the living daylights out of me. Bonnie managed to talk him down with her über-diplomacy and thanks to my then wife's Harvard law degree we even cashed in a nice check from the FBI for fear we'd sue them over the malfunctioning shackles that made the attack on me even possible. We used that money to rent our first office space downtown D.C. and hire our first employee, Jack Radar, whom you met in the very first chapter._

_Bonnie may not be a natural and I taught her everything I know but her understanding of the human condition and psyche have enhanced my work over the past ten years in ways I could have never imagined. People lie all the time, but the critical information lies in the reasons why they lie. It's the same with lie detectors, they only tell you that someone is anxious or stressed but they don't tell you what the subject is excited or nervous about. A lot of our early cases dealt with people who protested their innocence after a failed polygraph test. Looking back, I think that oftentimes the situations we dealt with at the FBI and DoD lent themselves to a "shoot first, ask questions later" policy. Sometimes that lead to dreadful mistakes but to some extent I could understand it. It's more important to find out_ _what a terrorist is lying about and where his target is than his motives for trying to bomb us to thy kingdom come. You can save those questions for after you've saved the world. But the things I've seen…let me just say that I have always been on the fence regarding this issue. It's better to let one guilty man off the hook than torture an innocent civilian._

_I wonder whether Clyde ever worried about his Bonnie the way I do about mine. Some days I am not entirely convinced that I did the right thing in letting Bonnie become my partner in crime. It's not because I'm a chauvinist who thinks his line of work is too dangerous for women. Working with criminals and terror suspects certainly carries a higher risk than selling books but all the women I have ever collaborated with have been able to hold their own in this admittedly male dominated world. Ria Torres and Gillian Foster are certainly no exception to that rule; on the contrary, they both lead by shining examples how it's done. And yet, sometimes when a case hits too close to home, I am reminded I could never forgive myself if something happened to my Bonnie._

_I have this uncanny talent to turn a potentially harmless situation into a moderately sized nuclear accident… which would be fine if it weren't for Bonnie getting caught in the midst of it. I know Bonnie thinks at times I am overprotective and patronising when I won't let her tag along on one of my crime sprees, as she calls them, but honestly, it's out of pure self-preservation. I can't concentrate on doing my job if I have to worry about Bonnie's well-being and I wouldn't know what to do if I lost her. After all, 8 out of 10 times Bonnie has to come to my rescue and save my arse because I didn't heed her advice earlier on in the first place. So a lot of times it's really like being caught between a rock and a hard place. Damned if I bring her along, doomed if I forge ahead without her._

_I can't help but want to protect Bonnie from the evils of this universe. The world has not been kind to her but you wouldn't hear Bonnie complain about any of the hardships she went through. She's tough as nails that one. She's faced serial killers and terrorists, once single-handedly disarmed a knife-wielding psychopath, and most importantly, she's crazy enough to put up with me day after day. You do not want to cross Bonnie. And yet she's got so much love in her heart, the world is not big enough to soak it up. She's an inveterate optimist. She makes me want to believe that truth and happiness are not irreconcilable. She gives me hope that you can have both in your life. Women like Bonnie are of a rare kind, the kind of pure and perfect breed of a unicorn. You don't really know they actually exist until you meet one of them. You hope it but you know better. And then once you met them, you have no idea how you could ever live again without them in your life._

_The truth is I could not live without Bonnie. I need her because she makes sure I remain an upright citizen and productive member of society. I have a special talent for alienating people with my line of work, my daughter thinks I am a bully, but really I am just trying to alienate my targets enough to get them out of their comfort zone. Bonnie makes sure I don't get killed in the process. (Though sometimes I get the distinct impression _she_ would like to off me… like the one time she kept ogling a lead pipe to club me over with at a construction site where I'd antagonised one of the witnesses too much.) It scares me how indispensable Bonnie has made herself in my life. I don't think she planned it or did it on purpose. It just happened. She's my partner in crime. I'm her work in progress._

_What scares me the most is that besides Emily, Bonnie is the only person who can lie to me. Emily grew up with me and learned from the best, but Bonnie doesn't even like lying. And it's not like the game Emily and I play, trying to sneak little lies past each other. For the longest time I thought Bonnie was the most terrible liar in the world until I found out that the old saying really is true. Still waters run deep. Try as I might, I can't read her the way I want to. _

_I have a theory about so-called blind spots, i.e. people in our lives we are so close to we can't interpret micro-expressions correctly. We find the idea that our spouses, our best friends could betray us unfathomable, which makes the betrayal in the end all the more hurtful. While I can read my ex-wife like an open book, I simply couldn't fathom the idea that my wife could ever leave me so I ignored all the signs. I didn't want to see them, so when I came home one day to her suitcase in the hallway, she might as well have punched me in the gut. A husband who can't fathom his wife could ever cheat on him, blocks out all the signs pointing him in the right direction, which is why the cuckold usually finds out last. I've dealt with clients, both female and male, who flat out refused to believe their spouse cheated on them, making excuses for them even after I confronted them with incriminating footage._

_I might as well have called this chapter __Blind Spots__ because Bonnie is definitely my blind spot. She may be the world's most terrible liar most of the time but when lives are at stake she'll sell you a private beachfront property in Arizona and make you send a postcard. I think it's because Bonnie believes that the truth will set you free. She sees no use in lying. Unlike Emily who considers it a game, Bonnie just doesn't like to lie. Naturally, it drives me crazy when she keeps something from me. It's not so much that she wants to hide something from me as that I can't figure it out. Yes, I do like to meddle in her business, but it's more than that. I'm not used to having to prod for information, most people are like open books for me. And in the beginning Bonnie was so easy to read for me too but somewhere along the line (no pun intended!) I lost my touch – which only speaks for my blind spot theory. _

_Ultimately I think it puts a strain on my relationship with Bonnie because unlike most people I am aware that she is my blind spot. I meddle with her life when I know she is trying to keep something from me, and I meddle with her life when she isn't because I am worried she might keep something from me without my knowledge. There, I admit it. She makes me insecure. Like I've lost my magic touch. And while I find this to be very frustrating and confusing, the other side of the coin is that this is exactly what makes Bonnie so intriguing for me. It's like a challenge. I can't always read her. She's not like an open book for me and yet I want to browse through the pages of her life story more than any other person I've ever met. I've never wanted to truly understand another person as much as I want with Bonnie. She is the most fascinating person I have ever met, and the complexities of her personality are like an enigma I just have to solve. Some days I'm afraid she's literally driving me crazy._

The chirp of her cell phone tore Gillian out of her thoughts and she quickly went in search of the item. Where'd she left it last night? She followed the sound and groaned frustrated when it stopped. She looked at her watch and realised it was 7pm. How long had she been reading on her couch? Her heart started to beat faster as she realised it was probably Cal checking in on her telling her to get ready. She found her phone on a shelf – when had she put it there? – and saw the message from Cal.

Heads up: My daughter wants me to marry you.

Gillian laughed. Even though she did not expect Emily to oppose their relationship it was a relief to know she had received the news well. She'd almost expected Cal to chicken out and conveniently forget to tell Emily about the big change in his life.

She texted back: I'll meet you at the chapel of love at 8 sharp. I have to buy a dress first.

She'd barely hit reply, when Cal's response popped up on her screen: Nah, don't bother. Come naked.

Aren't you confusing the honeymoon with the ceremony?

The church of Cal makes no distinction.

She chuckled and thought about a witty comeback when her phone started ringing in her hand.

"Hiiii", her voice had the distinctive mushy quality of a teenager in love. She rolled her eyes at herself.

"Hey, love, I'm just calling to let you know that I'm about to wrap up things here – that is if Zoë's mum finally runs out of vacation pictures. I'm starting to think that a little accident encounter between the fireplace and the photo album might be required."

"Cal!" She chastised him immediately, "Behave!"

Cal chuckled on the other side, satisfied he'd gotten a rise out of her again, "I'm trying, love. It's hard. It just gets so boring after the first two hundred pictures. What about you, love, are you being a good girl?" He stopped and lowered his voice, "Does Santa have to punish you tonight?"

Gillian's stomach flipped in reaction to his words and a tingly sensation coursed through her veins. How did he do this? "What if I told you I've been a _very_ bad elf today?" She couldn't believe she teased him like that. Could she just hear him swallowing over the phone?

"What _have_ you been doing all day without me?" His curiosity was definitely piqued.

"Reading." She thought about coming clean to Cal about opening his gift and reading the manuscript but his mind had already taken the express train to the gutter.

"Must be a very good romance novel then." She could hear the grin in his voice.

"You have no idea. I'm taking notes for tonight." Gillian lied and Cal groaned. There was silence on the line while Gillian waited for his response and Cal was collecting his thoughts.

Eventually he cleared his voice, which had dropped an octave to his most seductive level, "Can this little elf hope for a powerpoint presentation with a lecture-demo component tonight?"

"If said elf does not keep me waiting too long. Otherwise I may just have to test out my thesis alone."

"Alright, enough." Cal's voice sobered up. "You're giving me a raging hard-on and I have to go back into the living room and sit on a couch with my in-laws."

"I'm sorry, you started it." She didn't seem the least little bit sorry.

"Yeah, yeah, I know but I have to stop before it gets out of hand." Cal admitted, "Anyway, I just called to let you know that Emily and I will be around in about 30 minutes. Thought I'd give you time to prepare and pack an overnight bag…unless you already have." The teasing grin in his voice was back. Of course she had already packed. No way she was going to let him know that. He'd get conceited knowing how desperate she was about seeing him tonight that it was the first thing she did after she came out of the shower.

"Thanks, that's really appreciated."

"Ok, I gotta go before Zoë comes searching after me."

"Sure. I'll see you soon then," Gillian replied and then added just before he hung up, "Cal?"

"Yes?" His eager response came.

There was another moment of silence as Gillian contemplated telling him again. She wanted to tell him about the manuscript and that she understood and she loved him and wanted to grow old with him. She just didn't know how.

"Just."

"Yeah?"

"I miss you." _I love you._

She chickened out again. It was probably better that way. What she wanted to tell him was better said in person anyway. This would also give her time to figure out what exactly it was she was going to say to him.

"I miss you, too, love." _I love you, too_. "I can't wait to see you in half an hour or so."

"I'll be waiting here with bells on."

There was another moment of silence as they were clearly reluctant to end their conversation. It was only when Cal heard someone approaching that they said their final good-byes and disconnected the call.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N Wow, thanks for the great reviews guys. I was a bit nervous about the last chapter, since finding what I think might be Cal's semi-professional voice in writing was quite hard. Thank God for computers or I'd have sacrificed a small rainforest in the process of rewriting that chapter again and again and again and - you get the point. I'm glad it was so well-received and people didn't think it was too much out of character, it was quite the balancing act packing Cal's utter adoration and love for Gillian into a professional tone and still sneaking in a secret love declaration until it sounded right - at least to me. LOL Of course, now the pressure's on me to keep up the standard and meet your guys' expectations.

Oh and P.S. I didn't see the footnote didn't carry over to ff net until now but the line "Let me clear, I know very little... etc." is of course from the show.

* * *

><p>Cal had excused himself to grab a beer from the kitchen. He used the opportunity to text Gillian and when their exchange turned flirtatious he couldn't resist calling her to hear her voice. He'd just ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket when he heard footsteps approaching. He hoped it wasn't his ex-wife and that she hadn't overheard anything. The last thing he needed was to end Christmas with a fight of epic proportions. And he had no doubt that Zoë would blow a gasket when she learned who the new woman in her ex-husband's life was. Cal reached into the fridge to get the beer he had originally come in for.<p>

When he rummaged through Zoë's drawers in search of the bottle opener, he felt a pair of arms snake around his body. Zoë pressed a kiss in the nape of his neck as she snuggled up to him, "You don't really have to leave tonight, you know?" She started to hum, "The weather outside is frightful", then cleared her throat and finished, "and the road conditions are getting worse."

"What would your parents think?" Cal replied and shut the drawer with a shove of his hip.

Zoë dismissed his concerns, "You can pretend you sleep on my couch and sneak into my bedroom afterwards." She let her arms wander lower and Cal sucked in a breath. Before he knew what was happening she'd seized the opportunity to slip her hands into the waistband of his jeans. Cal hissed and closed his eyes. She'd never played fair.

"And then what, Zoë?" Cal took her arms and freed himself from her embrace. He turned around to look at her, "I sneak downstairs in the morning so no one will know we hooked up?"

"You know you want it", she replied flirtatiously and pushed back against his body. Cal cursed his hormones. She'd never take him seriously while his hard on was poking her.

"We need to talk!" He explained and tried to put some distance between them.

"What's the matter with you?" Zoë looked at him concerned. He'd never been one to turn down a chance to sleep with her.

"No, Zoë, what's the matter with you? Is Roger fine with our little arrangement? Or did you never tell him that every once in a while we fuck for old time's sake?"

Zoë's smile fell and she looked offended by Cal's words. How dare he stand there with his self-righteousness, telling her what to do? "You've never complained before, what's changed?"

"We can't do this anymore," Cal didn't move a muscle in his face as he stared at his ex-wife.

"Oh my God, you met someone, didn't you?" She suddenly understood.

Cal's features softened. He could give away that much, couldn't he? She was his ex-wife after all; she deserved an explanation. And she did have a point; he used to have no problem with her cheating. As long as he wasn't the cuckolded, that is. He just shrugged his shoulders in a non-committing yes.

"Wow." Zoë took a step back and gave Cal the once over. "Who is she?" she asked which was code for 'Do I know her?' She took a seat at the kitchen table.

"I'd rather not say. It's still kinda fresh and I don't want to screw it up." Cal walked up behind her.

"But it's serious?" She looked up with wonder in her eyes.

Cal wiggled his head, "Yeah."

"Serious enough that you don't want to cheat on her." Zoë concluded.

"I never cheated on you, either." He countered. Zoë sent him a look that said he clearly didn't have a problem with sleeping her while she was engaged to someone else. Cal shrugged his shoulders in response as if to say that wasn't really his problem but hers. He sat down in the chair next to her, turning it a little so he was facing her. He took her hand in his.

"We need to move on, Zoë. This thing we have, it's not healthy."

"I know."

"This whole back and forth, it's not good for Emily, either." His earlier conversation had opened his eyes. They'd really not been very subtle around Emily. It must have been very confusing to her.

"I know."

"And most of all…it's not fair to us, either."

"I know."

"Since when am I the adult one in our marriage?" Cal mused.

"Since we got a divorce?" Zoë replied amused. Silence spread as she looked down at Cal's hand clasping hers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand softly. "Do you love her?"

"Don't do that, love. Don't go there." Cal smiled sympathetically at her, "She's got nothing to do with this, with us. We should've done this a long time ago, but I was too weak."

Zoë looked up at him sharply, he made it sound like she was taking advantage of him. "I didn't leave you because I didn't love you anymore." She confessed and Cal stopped his movements. He looked into her eyes deeply and it suddenly all made sense. "No, you didn't."

"It's not that I stopped loving you, Cal. I just didn't know _how_ to love you anymore – or live with you for that matter."

"It just didn't work out." Cal concluded and Zoë nodded with relief. He understood. Thank God. He wasn't holding it against her anymore.

"I made a lot of mistakes", Cal explained and smiled when he saw Zoë's shocked reaction. That was a first. So far he'd been blaming everything on her. She left him. She doubted them. She didn't believe in their marriage. "I did", he nodded for emphasis, "and I'm sorry."

"Where's all this wisdom coming from?" Zoë frowned.

Cal shrugged his shoulders again. "I did some thinking. Had a bit of time on my hands to do some contemplating in the past months."

"You did…" She sounded skeptically.

"What I'm trying to say is… I forgive you, Zoë, for leaving me. I couldn't understand it at the time but we really were a bad match. And I didn't exactly make life easier for you. I know that now. That's not to say I didn't love you. I wasn't really ready for a relationship. I went into this marriage with expectations you simply couldn't meet. No one could ever meet. I'm sorry for what I put you through. I should've tried harder to understand you better."

Zoë was speechless. Did he just take the fall for the demise of their marriage? "It wasn't just you, Cal. I didn't go into this marriage without knowing who you were. I guess I was naïve thinking I could change you."

Cal flashed her a grin. "That might have been a bit unrealistic."

"Didn't we try hard enough?" Her voice was laced with regret.

Cal shook his head, "Maybe we tried too hard to make our relationship something it couldn't be."

"Do you regret marrying me?"

"No!" The response spewed forth so fast, Zoë didn't even have a chance to finish her sentence. His reaction made her smile.

"I didn't marry you just because I got you pregnant. I married you because I was in love with you." Cal felt the need to clarify, even though the topic's been discussed to death during the demise of their marriage. "Emily was just a very convenient way to make sure you'd stay with me." He confessed. She looked at him amazed. "I mean, look at me. What's a bloke like me doing with a girl like you? It was just a matter of time until you'd have found someone who'd really make you happy."

"You made me happy, Cal. For a while we were really happy."

"Yeah, we were, weren't we?" They shared a nostalgic moment and a goofy grin.

"It wasn't all bad", she continued, "and the make up sex has always been great!"

Cal laughed out loud and looked at her with a twinkle in his eye, "Can't complain about that one. Gave me a beautiful little girl."

"But we have to stop it", Zoë reminded them of why they were having this discussion in the first place. She got it now. They had to move on. They couldn't keep living in the past.

"I love you, Zoë. You know that, don't you? You'll always be Emily's mum." He ran his hand down her cheek.

"But you're not in love with me anymore." Zoë nodded understandingly. She cast her eyes down. She couldn't bear to actually see it in his eyes. It would hurt too much.

"No," Cal shook his head.

"You're in love with someone else."

"I'm sorry, Zoë."

"It's ok." She looked up and cupped his chin when she saw the miserable look on his face. He really hated hurting her like that. "Like you've said, we've gotta move on. I'm glad that one of us is finally really doing it. Makes it easier for me to do the same."

"So you're finally gonna set a date for your wedding?" Cal grinned.

Zoë shrugged her shoulders. Maybe. Probably. If only she knew whether Roger was the right guy. She'd been hiding behind her unresolved feelings for Cal, but now that he was out of the picture, she'd really have to face her demons.

0~0~0~0~0

Emily tiptoed back from the kitchen into the living room. She'd followed her mother convinced she'd do something stupid like trying to seduce her father. And knowing her dad she had a pretty good idea of how long his resolve around her mom would last. Someone had to keep tabs on them; she didn't want her father to ruin his relationship with Gillian before they'd even really started going out. But now she felt like an intruder after eavesdropping on her parents' conversation.

"Where are your parents?" Grandma asked.

"In the kitchen. They're talking." Emily explained. She stopped in the middle of the room. She felt funny. It felt strange knowing that her parents were in the other room officially breaking up for good. It felt especially strange considering they'd been divorced for over three years now.

"Well, tell them to move their butts back in here!" Her grandfather declared and was about to yell their names.

Grandma had watched Emily's uneasiness and cut him off, "No, Jerry, let them talk. It's been long overdue they had that talk." Jerry gave her a big frown but Peggy ignored him. Instead she reached out her arm, motioning for her granddaughter to join them on the couch. "You know, they'll always love you."

Emily nodded as she walked over to her grandparents. It still hurt, though. Why? Hadn't she been through that whole process five years ago? Hadn't she come to the conclusion it was better her parents separated than fighting constantly?

"You alright?" Grandma asked Emily who nodded still a bit in shock. She plopped down between her grandparents with a heavy sigh.

"They love you and nothing that's going on between them will ever change that."

"I know. It's just…" Emily drew out glumly. It's just what? Why was she even upset over all this? An hour ago she was thrilled her dad was finally together with Gillian, why did she all of a sudden have a problem with her parents not seeing each other anymore? She should've been proud of her father for not giving in to temptation. Why did she feel cheated out of a family instead? Her parents were divorced for crying out loud! And she loved Gillian! Hadn't she been secretly planning a relationship between her father and his best friend ever since the divorce practically came through?

"… confusing?" Grandma offered helpfully.

Emily looked at her as she was drawn out of her thoughts, "Yeah. I mean… they've been separated for five years now… I should've seen that one coming… I just… you know… until now… I suppose a part of me … deep down inside… some part of me had hoped they'd get back together again one day."

"You know, for two people with postgraduate degrees, your parents aren't really the brightest people on the planet." Peggy kissed her granddaughter on the head through her hair. "They haven't really been fair to you have they?"

Emily shook her head. No. They hadn't been. And suddenly she grew a bit angry. They'd been very selfish actually. They'd nurtured this part inside her she hadn't even really known was still holding out for a family that didn't exist in that form anymore. They were the adults. They should've known better. They'd given her false hope. And for what? Just a little bit of sex.

"They're just human, Em. They make mistakes just like you do." Grandma rubbed her back comfortingly. "They didn't realize how much they were actually hurting you."

"It's so funny, you know, because here I thought I left that all behind. It didn't hurt that much when they actually got divorced. I was the one telling them they had to move on and should date other people! I told them I'd have absolutely no problem. Why do I feel so wretched then?"

"Because things always look better on paper. It's when we're suddenly confronted with the reality we find that maybe we weren't really ready for the change yet." Her grandfather mused. "And really, we should be thankful, they're so civil tonight."

That elicited laughter from all of them.

"Well, maybe it would be easier if they'd been fighting and calling it quits. But they're actually talking. Like really talking in there. Why'd they never talk like that when they were still married? We might've had a fighting chance as a family. It's like they're saying good-bye to each other. For good." Emily sighed.

"Gee, if I'd known we would've come to show the pictures of Greece sooner." Grandma joked and they all chuckled.

"You know?" Emily wrinkled her nose. Her parents had been so busted.

"Your mom and dad fighting over loading the dishwasher? Honey, I wasn't born yesterday."

She'd barely finished when the voices in the kitchen rose. The three of them looked at each other and broke out into laughter again.

"Guess we jinxed that one!" Emily giggled. "I guess that's my cue that we'll be leaving soon." Emily rose from the couch. She'd better get her stuff ready. She gave each grandparent a tight squeeze and mumbled a heartfelt, "I love you. Thanks." into their ear.


	11. Chapter 11

"It's that detective Emily's mentioned the other week, isn't it? Good luck with that one, when you tell our daughter", Zoë looked at him knowingly. Emily had made no secret of her distaste for the crooked cop. Zoë sympathized with their daughter. You just didn't go out on a date with a crooked cop who broke into your house.

Cal shook his head and opened his mouth, carefully pondering his response.

"Never mind, you tell me when you're ready. I'm just glad, it isn't Gillian." Zoë sighed as she hugged Cal. His body stiffened ever so slightly and she froze. It was almost imperceptible. He couldn't control it. She couldn't control herself and slapped him hard across the face. He gave her a startled look but clearly was at a loss for words in this situation. He didn't have to ask what she'd done that for.

"You're a fucking bastard, Cal Lightman. Get out of my house." Zoë hissed and turned her back on him. Why did he have to do this to her? What kind of sick and perverted form of pleasure did he get out of hurting her like that? And here she'd thought he'd finally grown up.

"Zoë", Cal tried even though he knew it was futile to reason with her when it came to Gillian Foster. But he had to try. His feelings for Gillian were not going to go away and, more importantly, he was no longer willing to ignore them. He couldn't flee from this fight because his relationship with Gillian was very real and not going anywhere and they'd be having this argument for the rest of their lives.

"Leave me alone, Cal. Get out of my sight." She brushed him off when he came up behind her and touched her shoulder. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Cal?" She turned around sharply, eyes blazing, "Is it all a joke to you? Do you just enjoy seeing me suffer? I thought you were done getting back at me for leaving you."

"Trust me, this is not a joke. It's not retaliation for your divorce, either. It just…happened." He tried to explain but could tell from the look on his ex-wife's face that he wasn't really reaching her. She was working herself up into one of her rages and suddenly Cal became aware that they were still in the kitchen. That was a very bad place to have this conversation – strategically. It wouldn't be the first time she'd be throwing dishes at him in her temper. "Look, I'm sorry you're hurting. That's exactly the reason why I didn't want to tell you whom I was seeing. It's not like I _want_ to hurt you."

"Well, you should've thought about that before you brought _her_ into our lives", Zoë spat the personal pronoun with so much contempt and disgust, Cal was inclined to take a step back instinctively. She was doing a piss poor job of hiding her true feelings. Maybe she didn't even care anymore. He'd left her. She had nothing to lose anymore. She no longer had to keep up appearances and pretend to like her because she was his friend.

"Well technically I didn't bring her into our lives. The psych eval was an order from above…" Cal reminded her.

"Don't start with fucking semantics with me, Lightman. _You_ brought her into our home. Foster's said this and Foster's done that. You didn't have to invite her to start your company with you. There are dozens other experts in the field. Why'd it have to be her?"

Cal groaned. They've been over this. They'd had this discussion ad nauseam in their marriage. "Because she gets it. When people were sneering at me and calling it pop science she really got it. She _believed_ in me. And she's bloody brilliant with voice analysis."

Zoë turned her head sharply. There it was… that old accusation that she didn't really believe in him or his work. The argument wasn't even worth the effort anymore. Of course she believed in him but she wasn't blinded by his science. He wasn't infallible and neither was his science. She wasn't blinded by his tricks like Foster was. She knew the _real_ Cal Lightman. The manipulator.

"And that was reason enough to choose her over me?" She looked at him in disbelief. She was his wife. The mother of his child. In the beginning she'd told herself it would pass. He'd been smitten with this Doctor Foster but he would grow tired of mentoring her like he'd done with all his other protégés. He only liked them as long as he could mold them, once they started to form their own opinions and went against him, he'd discard them and call them ingrates. Only it didn't happen. She'd waited and waited. But instead of growing tired of her, he'd talked that darn doctor into running off to start their own company. He'd begun to thrive on the challenges Gillian threw at him.

"I didn't choose her over you!" Cal defended himself, "You know how tired I'd gotten of that place. And you'd been in my ear for years to quit anyway. 'I hate it when you leave, Cal, I never know if I will get you back in one piece', 'Think of Emily, Cal, she can't grow up without a father'…", he reminded her, "It made sense to grab the opportunity with her. She was worth the risk."

"Risking our marriage? Your family?" Zoë challenged him.

"Why do you always have to mix the private with the professional? Foster was business, she'd had nothing to do with our marriage falling apart!"

Zoë gasped inaudibly. He really believed that. How could he still not see? It brought tears to her eyes. Had she really meant that little to him? He still could not understand how much Foster's presence in his life had threatened her position?

"What?" Cal looked at her confused. He had trouble reading her face and felt like he was losing ground. She was crying and that meant that he had hurt her in ways that made it impossible for her to keep her emotions in check. She _hated_ crying in front of him. She _hated_ being vulnerable to him. "I never cheated on you, Zoë. I've never slept with Gill, nor any other woman while we were married. And trust me there were chances on my missions abroad but I love you. "

"You didn't have to sleep with Gillian to cheat on me." She said barely above a whisper.

"I beg your pardon", Cal wasn't sure he'd understood her correctly. She'd spoken so quietly, maybe he'd missed the important parts that would lend some sense to her words.

"You heard me all right." She said louder and then silence fell over the room. He was waiting for her to explain, to elaborate, but she wasn't willing to do the work for him. If he still couldn't understand then what was the use of making him comprehend? Gillian had won. Cal had finally admitted his feelings for the other woman and left her for her. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Cal sighed, "You need to stop keeping score, love."

"Why not? She stole my husband after all!" Zoë shot back.

Cal shook his head, "You make it sound like she snatched me away from right under your nose. We're not married anymore, Zoë. You need to let go."

"She stole you, all right, look me in the eye and tell me you had no feelings for her when the two of you met!" She challenged him. "I mean really think about it. Did you or did you not fancy her when we were still married? And I want to the truth, Cal."

He opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it again. The lie would have come so easily. It's always done in the past. Did he love Gillian from the moment he had met her? Looking back, he knew it was the case. Even if he hadn't been willing to acknowledge it until recently.

"Your silence is also an answer." Zoë pointed out, knowing very well he was keeping quiet on purpose and not really because he was still mulling things over.

"I didn't sleep with her, though. I'm not even sure I knew back then that I was falling for her." Cal defended himself. "I wasn't cheating on you. If I had feelings for her, I never acted on them… Until last night, nothing has happened between Foster and me."

"But _I_ _knew_, Cal. I could _feel_ you slipping away from me. Every day. More and more. And there was nothing I could do about it." Zoë explained. "That hurt more than if you'd just slept with her. You had feelings for her and I just couldn't compete with them."

"I'm sorry." Cal mumbled. He felt like shit.

"But I was stupid enough to take up the fight. I wasn't going to give up my husband so easily. So I fought and I fought", Zoë said as tears sprang back into her eyes, "and I lost and I lost. You were so smitten with her, Cal. It was like anything I said went in one ear and out the other. But everything Gillian said was brilliant and smart and worth remembering."

"Oh!" Cal sat down as realization hit him.

"You don't have to sleep with someone to cheat on your wife, Cal. I was your wife and I felt like the other woman. People saw the two of you working together and assumed you were married. Do you have any idea how denigrating that felt, when I waited for you at the office and one of your clients commented they'd be at each others throat if they'd have to be with their wives around the clock because they worked with them? I pretended I was another client, because it would have been too embarrassing to introduce myself as your wife."

Cal opened his mouth but didn't really know what to say. I'm sorry just didn't cut it anymore in this case.

"You hurt me, Cal. You couldn't have hurt me more, if you had had an affair with Gillian during our marriage. That may have been easier to handle, if it just had been sex or sexual attraction. We could've worked that out. But your betrayal went deeper. You _loved_ her, Cal, you fucking loved her. I could see it in your eyes when you talked about her, the way you talked about her. If she hadn't been married you probably would've gone after her."

Cal opened his mouth in protest but Zoë shut him down quickly, "I don't care what you say. You _loved_ her back then and the only thing that stopped you was Emily. At least that's something. So excuse me if I don't celebrate the occasion that she finally got what she always wanted. Forgive me for not breaking out into joyous rapture when you tell me – on fuckin' Christmas no less – that you're screwing the woman you've been secretly pining for over the past ten years."

"God, Zoë, I have no idea what to say. I didn't know", Cal struggled to form a coherent sentence.

"No. You didn't. How could you? You were always more concerned with Gillian's feelings to notice mine."

"Hey now, that's not fair. I care about you feelings", Cal objected, "And I cared back when we were married, you just made it so damn hard for me. You wouldn't let me take care of you. You never wanted to be weak in front of me. Always the strong one. And when I pointed out your doubts and how you really felt you accused me of reading you and invading your privacy. I couldn't really do anything right."

"Well, of course, I didn't want you to see me like that!" Zoë shouted, "What chances did I have against Gillian if you saw me as weak and dependent on you? You'd begun to substitute me with Gillian! I wanted to show you I could succeed without you. If you didn't need me anymore, I sure as hell didn't want to need you anymore either."

"It wasn't like you needed me before!" Cal complained, "You were like that even before I met Gillian. You've never really opened up to me."

"Oh, like you have?" Zoë retorted indignantly. "Pot meet kettle."

"Well, maybe I would have, if I'd felt my wife actually gave a shit!" He countered.

"Oh no, you don't get to put that one on me." Zoë put her hands on her hips. "You're emotionally withdrawn, Cal, and you know it. Maybe it's because of what happened to you with your mother, it's understandable you have trust issues after that, but don't make this out about me. It's all you!"

"Oh that's a low blow, bringing my mother into this!" Cal roared angrily. "You leave her out of this fight as she's got nothing to do with us."

"Has she, Cal? Communication is a two-way street. You can't expect people to give without a little something in return. Why should I open up to you, if you kept everything locked inside?"

"It's not the same!" Cal defended himself, "The things I saw…I didn't want to talk about my day, can't you understand that? And if I wanted to talk about you, I was prying for information. If I wanted to talk about us, I was reading you. No matter what I tried, I always did the wrong thing." The frustrations oozed out of Cal. "Maybe, just maybe, if you'd actually _talked_ to me, I wouldn't have had to revert to reading your eyebrows." Cal sneered referring to one of Zoë's standard lines.

"Really, Cal?" She shook her head, "That's rich, coming from you. You're the one always struggling to verbalize your thoughts."

"Maybe, but I don't need to express myself in order to listen." Cal shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to listen to you but you never gave me a chance. You just assumed I was out of reach. You didn't even try. It felt like a game. You waiting while I decoded what was bothering you based on your micro-expressions. I felt like in the fuckin' cube half the time!"

They looked at each other as silence fell over the room. They'd reached a stalemate and they both knew if they kept this conversation going they'd only start airing out their old dirty laundry. So much for a happy holiday.

Cal sighed, "I'll go get Em."

Zoë nodded, blinking back more tears. "Thank you." Every minute in his presence felt like torture. She couldn't wait until he'd left her house and she could break down for real. This was it. She'd really lost him this time. There'd be no more flirting, no more get back togethers, no more secret trysts, no more fake holidays. He'd moved on and she knew he'd want to make a life for him and Gillian as a family of their own. She no longer fit into his plans anymore.

Cal turned around with his hand on the door handle looking at his ex-wife a final time. "You've _got_ to know that this was never about hurting your feelings, Zoë. I'm sorry but I can't help _my_ feelings."

"Don't, just don't, Cal." She shook her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She didn't want to hear it. How he was sorry. How Gillian made him happy. How his feelings for her were too strong to deny them any longer. What about _her_ feelings?

"No, I have to, love. Don't you think it would've been easier to ignore my feelings for Gillian than hurting you, risking my friendship and business? But I can't do that anymore and I know it's a lot to ask for but my feelings for Gillian won't go away so the sooner you can come to terms with that, the better it will be for you."

She just nodded quietly. Glum. Not yet ready for that step. "Just go, Cal, please." She implored him. She didn't know how much longer she could put up her strong façade.

"Ok. I'll drop Emily off Saturday before school starts."

She nodded again.

"I've thought about taking her skiing over the break, just so you know."

She rolled her eyes, "I won't be calling the cops for taking our daughter out of state without my consent. That would be a petty thing to do. We do share custody you know."

He cocked his eyebrows and pressed his lips together, "Just saying. Don't want you to worry."

"Things have changed, Cal. People have cell phones, I know how to reach you guys even if you're in Vermont."

"OK. Do you…" He nodded at her and then indicated the direction of the living room with his chin.

"Would you mind?"

"Nah, take your time. I'll have her call you later in the evening, ok?"

"Thanks."

"Bye, love."

With that Cal slipped through the door in search of his daughter. He found her sitting on the couch between her grandparents, looking at some of her grandma's photographs. The gym bag between her feet told him she'd overheard their fight and figured it would end with Cal storming out in a huff, dragging Emily after him. Wouldn't be the first time. Wouldn't be the last time, either. His ex-wife just had a way of getting under his skin, when she wanted to. For all the times she'd accused him of being a manipulator; he could list another occasion where she'd played him like a drum herself. Cal smiled apologetically at his parents-in-law and asked Emily whether she was ok. She looked at him strangely but didn't say a word. Emily hugged her grandparents and wished them a merry Christmas again and a safe journey back to Chicago. Cal followed suit and picked up the gym bag. Emily rose from the couch and walked past him without saying a word. Cal sighed. This was going to be a long drive home.


	12. Chapter 12

Gillian checked her wristwatch for the twentieth time. Cal had called forty minutes ago when he said he'd be right around. That made him officially about ten minutes late. However, with road conditions like that, such tardiness was not only understandable but expected.

After his call, Gillian had put the bound manuscript back into its shoebox and searched for a place of honour on one of her bookshelves. Let people think she was crazy for proudly displaying a shoebox but to her it was so much more. Just from the quick read she had done this afternoon, she felt as if he had written the book just for her, to say all those little things he should have over the past ten years but never found the right words for. So she considered it a treasure and the shoebox that housed it was like a treasure chest. Now she sat on her couch and stared at the object while she waited for Cal. She wanted to be ready for him, when he arrived. She had to suppress the urge to put on her coat and wait outside for him and Emily to pull up her driveway in his car. She'd flung her arms around him and kiss him senseless. That would be pathetic. And so school girl crush of her. Instead she stayed inside, twiddling her thumbs and counting the minutes.

She wondered if maybe she was reading too much into Cal's gift. After all, he didn't really write it for _her_, did he? Sure she'd been constantly breathing down his neck to finish it but technically it was the publisher that had commissioned the second book from him and sicked the bloodhounds on him. Would other people be able to interpret Cal's book as a covert declaration of love? Or could only she decipher Cal's roundabout ways of expressing his feelings? Zoë would know and Emily of course. Loker and Torres would probably figure it out, too. She was thankful Cal hadn't put her on the spot by revealing Bonnie's identity completely, even though the people around them could probably put two and two together.

Maybe her watch was going fast? She reached for her cell to double-check the time. Nope. Cal was now officially half an hour late and Gillian started to get worried. What if something had happened to them on their way over? The police wouldn't even notify her because she wasn't next of kin. Don't go there, Gillian, don't go there. Maybe someone else had been in an accident and the roads were blocked. But why the fuck didn't he call her then? She glanced at her cell phone again. Four bars. Excellent reception, so that couldn't be the issue either.

There was of course the other explanation, which Gillian had refused to acknowledge but had nonetheless crept into her conscience. What if? No, he wouldn't do that to her, would he? Not now. Not when they'd become officially an item. Not after last night, which was so phenomenal she had still not been able to shake the chills just thinking about him stretching her insides brought back. He couldn't really make love to her one night and then go back to his ex-wife for a quick shag – not when he already knew there'd be seconds for him later tonight.

As the big hand of her watch seemed to increase in speed and the minutes ran by she _wanted_ to give him the benefit of doubt. The man who had made love to her last night wouldn't betray her like that. There _had_ to be another explanation for his tardiness – but why didn't he just call and explain? She'd understand. If he wanted to spend more time with Zoë, Emily and her grandparents as a family, he'd just have to say so. Surely, he must know that she'd accept that without even so much as the blink of an eye? Just because you got divorced didn't mean you had to start hating your ex-spouse's whole entourage. After all, she still wrote a Christmas card to Alec's father and called his mother once before the holidays. She'd formed relationships with them independent of her relationship to Alec, she didn't just like them because they were his parents and vice versa, so she refused to abandon those relationships.

She argued with herself over just calling him. That would be too needy, wouldn't it? She was sure Cal who'd always liked his independence would hate a needy woman who checked up on him all the time. She didn't want to corner him and spook him before the first _I love yous_. And of that she was sure. More than ever now that she'd read his manuscript. She loved Cal Lightman with all her heart. What she wasn't completely sure of was whether she was doomed because of her love for him. Sometimes he made it so hard for her to love him. The past months especially sometimes felt as if he'd been stretching the boundaries as far as he could go to test the limits of her love for him. That would imply of course that he knew she loved him. Could he have read it on her face? No, no, he was far too nervous this morning. He'd tried to hide it but there was an anxious tone in his voice betraying his fears that she might reject him, or worse, regret what they had done.

Stupid fool! As if she could ever stop loving him. She _wished_ she could turn off her feelings for him. Oh dear, how many times had she longed for the strength to leave him over the past ten years. She'd found her resolve to leave Alec far quicker. But Cal was…Cal…and the thought of having him not in her life seemed unfathomable at best of times. He was irritating, obnoxious and abrasive when he was at his _best_ behaviour. He could be sweet, caring and protective when he wanted to. That was the Cal she loved more than anything and made it impossible for her to sever her ties to him. After reading his book she had the distinct impression that he wanted to be that man around her but didn't always know how to pull it off.

She wondered, not for the first time, if he had been jealous of Dave. Scratch that, she _knew_ he must have been jealous of him in light of last night. Feelings like that built up over a long period of time, they didn't just spring up like mushrooms over night. The way he had made love to her last night was full of awe and passion. A woman could tell when a man put his needs behind hers and Cal had made sure she was sated twice well before he allowed himself to lose control. He'd clearly pulled out all the stops to make their night memorable for both of them.

But that wasn't even the best part in her opinion. No, the memory she cherished the most was Cal the Cuddler. He'd kill her if the fact became common knowledge and ruined his hard reputation but while most men dozed off after sex, Cal had snuggled up to her and wrapped his arms around her. Sure, there was a certain possessiveness about it she'd come to expect from Cal, after all he _had_ just made her literally his, but the lazy circles he drew on her skin and the way he rubbed his nose softly in the crook of her neck and shoulder spoke of affectionate love.

0~0~0~0~0

She'd shivered and turned around in his arms – not because she was cold but because their spooning didn't provide enough body contact, which she craved so desperately. She'd wanted to disappear inside his embrace. He'd pulled the sheets tighter around her and scooted closer to her until her breasts were pressed against his chest.

"Come here", he'd whispered so softly and yet it seemed far too loud for their intimate post-coital daze. She'd threaded one of her legs through his and their faces were barely an inch apart.

"I'm not really cold", she breathed softly in his ear.

A lopsided grin formed on his mouth, "Want me to stop?" He halted the movement of his wandering hand on her back. Gillian shook her head.

"No, I like it. You know how you sometimes shiver, but it feels actually kinda good?"

Cal looked at her blankly – clearly he'd never had that experience so far – so she pulled out her hand from between their bodies and stroked his hair softly. She let her hand travel down until she reached the hairline on the nape of his neck. He murmured her name and closed his eyes, as she stroked upwards. His grip tightened and she could feel a spasm course through his body.

Gillian watched his reactions with amusement as she continued her gentle ministrations. He nestled his head deeper into her hand, clearly enjoying the sensations. She lowered her head and brushed her lips softly against his and whispered, "See? _Good_ shiver."

Cal cracked his eyes open and grinned mischievously, "_Very_ good shiver, love." He pecked her lips softly and continued, "You better stop doing that or I'll expect that kind of treatment every night from you."

"Would that be so bad?" She challenged him seriously. She didn't want to start a fight but the moment seemed right to drive home her point about shared intimacy in a relationship. He could have that every night if he was willing to let her in, to open himself up to her. Cal had been scarred many times in his life and didn't like to feel vulnerable.

He rustled in the sheets until he was propped up on his elbows and looked into her eyes for a long time. "No", he finally concluded, "not a bad thing at all." To emphasise his point he kissed her longingly and murmured "Not bad at all" against her lips when he broke apart again. He trusted her with his life, so why not with his heart as well? He didn't actually feel as exposed as he normally felt in situations like these. Somehow with Gillian it was different. Natural. Almost as if that was how it was supposed to be. A dangerous word combination started to float around his brain and he better distract his mind before he said something he would come to regret.

"Cal?" She tried to get his attention with another kiss.

"Hm?" He mumbled against her lips.

"Do you always have such a short regeneration span?" She asked feeling his erection return and press into her thigh. She'd never forget the bashful smile her simply question produced on his face. Definitely a first for Cal Lightman.

"Not since college, love." He replied honestly. Better not get her hopes up for their future love life. He _wished_ he could go more than once a night on a regular basis but the truth was that had not happened in a very long time. He considered himself good in bed but age was a battle even the great Cal Lightman couldn't win. Besides he was pretty sure, she'd be able to see through that lie even if she hadn't been a deception expert. "Consider it your Christmas bonus."

"But you still know how to use it, don't you?" He wanted to kiss the teasing grin off her face and then he realised he could just do that – and so he did. He rolled himself back on top of her and kissed her passionately.

"Don't worry, it's like riding a bicycle", he replied smugly as he slid back into her. He fit her perfectly, as if they had been made for each other.

0~0~0~0~0

Cal tried to concentrate on the road but the suffocating silence in the car caused him to glance at his daughter every time the road conditions allowed it. The slight scowl on her face didn't help matters.

"I'm sorry, love. We tried really hard this time." Cal started as a way of explanation but Emily continued to stare dead ahead, not moving a single muscle. "It's not like we _want_ to fight over the holidays. Your mum and I we're like oil and water is all."

"Nitroglycerine is more like it." Emily grunted but didn't offer more than her quip.

Cal sighed and decided to pull over, "What's the matter, love?" He parked the car and waited for Emily's explanation but she ignored her father. "Look, I said I'm sorry. There's really not much else I can say. By now you should be used to your mother and I fighting over the holidays…"

"I heard you." Emily said quietly and a lone tear rolled down her face.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry. We didn't know we were shouting so loudly. Sometimes your mum and I say things to each other we don't really mean…" Cal started but Emily shook his head.

"Not the fight, dad. I followed mom because I thought she'd do something stupid." She cast her father a knowing look, both of them knowing Zoë's dirty tricks.

"Oh." Cal was at a loss for words. "You've been eavesdropping on us?"

"Why'd you and mom never talk like that when we were a family? Why do you _always_ have to fight? Even when you're not together anymore." She looked at her father sharply with accusing eyes.

"Would it help to say that no matter how sour things between your mum and me get, no matter how many times you're gonna screw up, absolutely nothing in the world can ever change how much your mother and I love you?" He took Emily's hand in his and brushed his thumb softly across her tender skin.

It reminded her of how he had held her mother's hand just an hour ago. She looked steadfastedly out the front window, determined not to break down. She refused to look at her father but Cal could see the tears now streaming down her cheeks anyway.

And then it hit Cal like a ton of bricks, "Oh, love, don't cry. You knew this moment had to come sooner or later." He leaned over to brush her tears gently aside. "Your mum and I have been divorced for years now."

"I know!" Emily sobbed and threw her arms around her father, "But it hurts, dad, it really hurts. Make it stop!" Her grip was so tight around him and yet he felt he couldn't envelope her in his arms enough. She was his little girl. He wanted to protect her and he had hurt her. He'd done everything he swore he'd never do as a parent.

"I'm so sorry, Em." He ran his hand through her hair and squeezed her tightly against his chest. "I'm so sorry." There was really nothing he could say to make her feel better, so he just held her and let things run their course. He winced fully aware that he and Zoë were to blame for Emily's emotional upheaval with their constant back and forth in their relationship. Divorced parents occasionally sleeping with each other for old-time's sake would confuse any child, even a well-adjusted teenager like Emily.

"I didn't even know I still wanted this." Emily mumbled and finally broke the silence. "I don't understand why this upsets me so much, dad. I don't, I'm sorry, dad," she sobbed again and trailed off. "In here" She disentangled herself from her father and tipped her finger against her temples, "I know that we're not a family anymore, but here", she rubbed her chest, "I guess I held out hope you and mom would be getting back together one day."

Cal wiped the tears away from her cheeks and brushed her hair out of her face. "It's ok, Emily. You have nothing to be sorry about, you hear me? And we'll always be a family, a highly dysfunctional one but a family nonetheless. **I** am sorry, Em. Your mum and I should have never let your needs and welfare out of sight. That's unforgivable. It's okay to be confused, Emily."

"I don't understand why this bothers me so much, dad. It's not like this is the first time you or mum date someone else! She's been engaged to Roger for over a year, for heaven's sake! It makes no sense."

Cal smiled wistfully, "Maybe because until now neither your mum nor I were really serious about someone else?" He raised his eyebrows, as he explained, "What does it say about your mother that she's been engaged to someone for over a year without setting a date for the wedding?"

"That she has doubts?"

"Exactly."

"And you don't?"

"Huh?"

"Mom doesn't know if she should marry Roger because she thinks she's still in love with you. What about you? Are you sure? About Gillian? You don't have any doubts?" Emily asked.

Cal sighed, "Not like that. I have concerns about whether Gillian and I are doing the right thing, if I'm good enough for her but I don't have any doubts that I want to be with her."

Emily smiled, "You really love her, don't you?" Her smile widened into a grin, when her father actually blushed. "You want to spend the rest of your lives together, don't you?"

"Yeah, I actually do. Of course that's contingent on how fast she gets fed up with me. Might not make it that far." Emily laughed at that. "But listen, Emily, if things are moving too fast for you, I don't have to date Gillian. She'll understand. If you need more time, we can take it slow."

"Slower than three years, dad?" Emily quipped.

"Touché but the important thing here is that I won't make the same mistake twice. I won't hurt you again. If you're not ready for this, then I'll wait."

Emily looked at him funny, after all he'd all but just said he couldn't live without Gillian anymore. She couldn't really forbid him to see Gillian. What about work?

"I like Gillian", Emily mused, "I love her, too, dad. I don't think I want you to stop seeing her."

Cal briefed a sigh of relief. He would have done it. He hadn't just pushed his luck and said it. He'd really meant it. Emily had to come first; he was not going to hurt her twice in one day. It would have broken his heart and he may have been wrong, she might not have waited for him.

"Oh thank God, I would have wept but I would have followed your wishes."

"I want you to be happy, dad, and I can see how happy she makes you. It wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to give up your happiness for my happiness."

"Gosh darn, you're so smart, you can't possibly be the fruit of my loins."

"Accept it, dad. I'm yours and I'm here to stay" Emily joked, then turned serious, "I'm okay, dad, really, I am. When I head you and mom talk, _really talk_, for the first time since I can remember, it just threw me for a loop. I started to wonder what if… you know maybe we'd still be a family."

"Oh Em!" Cal felt rotten.

"But the point is, you and mom are not good for each other, you're toxic around each other. It's like you bring the worst out in each other. All those screaming matches you had when I was little…I often thought it would be better if you just separated."

Cal felt sucker punched and all air left him. Emily's words cut him through the heart, to think that his seven-year-old girl thought it would be better if her parents divorced shredded his heart. He couldn't breathe as he felt his chest constrict.

Emily continued, "And today in the kitchen, you talked calmly, like adults, you were nice to each other…I felt cheated…like if you'd really pulled yourself together you could have made it work."

"But then we got into a fight again…" Cal trailed off

Emily nodded, "And I realised nothing had changed. It was just…confusing, you know. It hurt and it came out of nowhere and I didn't know how to deal with it at first because I didn't even know I had these feelings still. But it's ok now."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, dad. I'm really fine. It doesn't even hurt so much anymore? Strange isn't it? I guess that was just something that had been slumbering inside and needed to get out in the open. Nothing a good cry can't solve."

"So, we're ok?"

Emily nodded and hugged him. "Do you still have my letter to Santa?"

Cal smiled affectionately and reached back to pat his jeans pocket through his coat. "Actually I do." He quickly hugged her again.

"I meant what I wrote in my letter this year. I really wish that you find someone to make you happy. I just didn't know you'd turn around on your heel and make nails with heads."

"Well, you know me…always leap before I think."

"That will be the death of you one day."

"Now you're just sounding like Gill."

"Which only proves my point that she was the right one for you all along."

"Oi! Maybe, it's not such a good idea for you two to spend more time together." Cal looked at her mock-sternly but then his face softened, "I'd planned a surprise for you but in light of your little outburst I want to check with you first. Is it ok for Gill to come over tonight?" Cal whispered in her ear.

Emily pulled back and looked into her father's eyes. So much love for her in them. She smiled and nodded her head. Cal squeezed her before he let her go and she settled back into her seat. When had they unfastened their seatbelts and huddled together over the middle console?

It was then that Emily looked outside and realised she recognised the neighbourhood as Gillian's. A grin spread across her face.

"Good because I extended your invitation to Gillian and asked her to spend the holidays with us and she's accepted it." Cal glanced at his daughter as he started the car again. Emily nodded encouragingly and Cal continued, "So I thought we could pick her up tonight, watch a movie together before bedtime." Cal chanced another glance and saw his daughter bobbing her head, "the weather's been really inclement these days and so I thought it's better for Gillian to stay overnight. I don't want her to drive on icy roads…" – she was still bobbing her head – "but if you'd rather I drive her home later…" Cal trailed off when he saw Emily fighting a grin threatening to spread across her face.

"It's okay, dad. I wouldn't want anything happening to _Gill on the bad roads_ either. " She whipped her head around and stared at her father with a calm and neutral face. And then she deadpanned, "Besides, I've got headphones."

Oh yeah, she had no illusions as to what he and Gill would be up to tonight. Cal just shook his head in disbelief. So they entered _this_ stage of puberty: Precocious teenager grabbing every opportunity to embarrass her father. Normally, he would have made a comment about her keeping her tongue in check with her wisecracks, especially around Gillian. Not tonight, though, if this helped Emily blow of some steam after their emotional heart-to-heart he was all for it. And after all, she was his daughter, he should expect that kind of behaviour from her. Come to think of it, he'd be concerned if she didn't comment on his dating life. She was his daughter. And he had taught her well. Far too well. He realised a little too late that it had been a mistake not to discourage this kind of behaviour when he witnessed her doing the same to Zoë. Oh well, payback's a bitch.

"So does that mean I can now have sex with my boyfriends in my room, too?"

There it was right on time. Cal coughed and almost swerved off the road, "No-o!" He sent her a deathglare.

"But won't that be a bit double-standard of you?" She challenged him.

"Gillian will sleep in the guest room." Cal lied.

Emily looked at him completely unimpressed. "Does she know you don't plan on consummating your relationship? She might want to know that before she says yes when you propose."

The light was red and Cal used the opportunity to turn his head and stare at his daughter. _Was she for real?_

"OK, Em. I get it. It's fun to rattle your old man about his love life but whether Gillian and I sleep with each other is none of your business. Besides, aren't you supposed to be grossed out by the thought of your parents having sex? What Gillian and I do concerns only us. We're both adults. You, on the other hand, are still my daughter and not even finished with school. You will not have sex in your bedroom as long as it is under my roof."

"Just askin'! It's a valid question after all. I mean with you and Gillian acting as my proper role models…" She grinned at him sweetly. Oh she was enjoying this way too much. Cal was amazed at how quickly she'd bounced back from her dark mood earlier; there was something to be said about the resilience of children and teenagers.

"Oi! Quiet you!" Cal grinned back.

"Will you marry Gill?"

Cal was quiet for a long moment. "I think my track record's spotty at best in this regard, love. Don't need no marriage license, can't buy you love or happiness that one." He said thoughtfully and then looked at her for emphasis, "That doesn't mean it won't work out for you. You should definitely be thirty and married before you have sex again. Make that fourty!"

Emily laughed out loud but looked at him serious again, "I think you should. Marry her."

"You think so, huh?"

"Of course, if she goes out and finds out who else is out there, you're screwed, dad!"

"So you're saying I should keep her on a tight leash and lock her up in the kitchen when I go to work?"

"Dad! No need to go all medieval!"

Cal laughed, "Tell you what, you'll be the first to know when Gill and I get engaged, ok? Until then, you let me and Gillian figure out how to make our relationship work. It wouldn't do me any good if I asked her now to marry me and she said yes and then three years from now we find out that we can't live together."

Emily pulled a face. "I hate to say it but that sounds very reasonable." Cal smiled triumphantly. "However, I can tell you now that you and Gill are made for each other. In fact, I bet you fifty bucks that you will get married and grow old together." She held out her hand, "Deal?"

Cal shook her hand readily, "Deal." Marrying Gill was worth more than fifty bucks.

"Oh and dad. No screwing this up." Emily looked at him seriously, "Not worth winning fifty bucks, ok?"

They'd finally reached Gillian's house. Cal had half expected Gillian to wait impatiently outside for them but in this cold it would have been insane. He killed the engine, quickly unbuckled and turned towards his daughter, who'd followed suit.

"I'll be quick. You stay put."

"I was just going to move to the back seat." Emily pointed backwards with her thumb.

"Oh!" Cal smiled, "That's nice but Gillian would be ok with you staying in the front, I'm sure." He said as he opened the door.

They both got out and Emily couldn't resist to tease her father again, "But how are you gonna hold hands all the way home if you're in the front and she's in the back." With that she threw the door close and moved to the back door.

Cal pointed his finger accusingly at his daughter, "You!" he went around the car, "Watch what you say. Don't overdo it." He opened the door for his daughter to get in, "or I'll let you drive while Gill and I make out on the backseat."

Emily opened her mouth for a comeback but Cal shut the door in her face. Teenagers! Emily watched her father rush up the steps to Gillian's door. Did he have a light skip in his step? She grinned. He knocked on her door and when she didn't immediately open he rang the doorbell.

Cal bounced on his feet – was it impatience or nervousness or just sheer excitement? He couldn't tell. And then she opened the door and flung herself into his arms and kissed him as if he was going off to war. Emily's eyes bulged out taking in the scene between her father and Gillian.

"Wow", Cal took a little step back, "what did I do to earn this welcome?"

"I love you, too, you idiot!" She moved in to kiss him again but Cal caught her chin and held her face up for a closer inspection.

"Oi! If that makes you cry, we're in trouble."


	13. Chapter 13

She felt it before she saw it. Or more precisely, she slipped on it first and then bent down to inspect the purple piece of paper lying on the floor near her couch. She picked it up curiously and immediately recognised Emily's handwriting. What was it doing here in her room? Even though the piece of paper was folded in half, Gillian could make out that it must be Emily's letter to Santa Claus.

Cal had told her a couple of years ago that Emily still insisted on writing letters to Santa even though she no longer believed in him. Each year she wrote a list but instead of carrying it to the post office with Cal, she just left it somewhere for him to take. When Cal had asked her why she didn't just tell him what she wanted for Christmas, she'd just shrugged her shoulders claiming tradition and that it was more fun this way. And far be it from Cal to stop his daughter from something she clearly enjoyed. Instead he turned around and went to Gillian to gush about his adorable daughter and her quirky behaviour. The letter in her hands was just exactly the way Cal had described them over the years, coloured paper – purple was en vogue this season apparently – decorated with glitter and star stickers. It was a bit crumpled and Gillian realised that Cal must have been carrying it around with him for days. It must have fallen out of his pocket last night. Gillian was just about to get an envelope and put the unread letter in to give it back to Cal, respecting Emily's personal space, when another slip of paper slid out between the folds of Emily's letter.

She couldn't keep her eyes off it when she spotted her name in Cal's familiar scrawl, and had to read the whole thing. She'd worry about violating Cal's privacy later, after all, it was a letter to Santa, so how personal could it be?

_Dear Santa, _

_So we meet again. No doubt you are enjoying your triumph over my weak willpower in your grotto at the Northpole or wherever you are. But let's be honest, we're both adults now and desperate times call for desperate measures. And really, I __am__ sorry for kneeing you in the groin back then and I __do__ understand that you cannot make little girls kiss boys against their will, not even Christie McPherson. I admit that was totally uncalled for on my part and must have hurt like a son of a bitch, but in my defence, I was only eight years old and I __really__liked__ Christie McPherson._

_As you've probably guessed the reason I'm writing you again is another girl. But she's nothing like Christie McPherson. And she already likes me! We've been friends for almost ten years now. And I'm not even asking you to make her kiss me (though that would be fanbloodytastic and I would definitely not complain! and you'd __totally__ redeem yourself for the Christie McPherson kiss fiasco). All I want is, well, Gillian for Christmas. Gillian Foster, that is, and if you do indeed keep a naughty and nice list, you'll find her straight at the top. Because she's an angel, my Gill, and quite possibly the nicest person you'll ever find on this planet. She's nothing short of perfect. She's the bee's knees. And I love her, Santa. I wish I could tell her that but I don't know if she likes me this way and I've been very rude to her lately (Oh yeah, in case you don't remember, this is Cal Lightman – I'm a naughty one so you better look for my name at the bottom of your list). I don't deserve her but I __really__ do love her. And not in the school boy crush kind of way with Christie McPherson. Sure, my heart skips a beat when I see her first thing in the morning and my mood lifts a little when she comes into my office for a little pudding and chit chat break (though you can't tell her that because I have reputation to keep!). But it's more than that. I've known her for ten years and we've been through thick and thin and she's still my best friend. No, I love her in a it breaks my heart kind of way when I see her with other men because I know they won't make her happy but I can't say anything because I have to respect that bloody line of hers! And I would so love to try and be the man that makes her happy, even though I know I'm going to screw things up between us but I want her to know that I'll always be there and I'll always love her even when she's been hurt and thinks she's the worst person on the planet. The other guys just don't care about her the way I do. And I can't even go and break their legs for breaking her heart because she wouldn't condone that and rip me a new one. See? Clearly, I need help!_

_So yeah this is about another girl, but this is the right one, Santa. I __know__ it. Someone once asked me to describe my ideal woman and I realised I could describe her until the cows come home and none of it would matter unless __I__ were her ideal man. So what I'm really wishing for this Christmas is that I'm Gillian's ideal man. If you could just help me help her see that… maybe you could spike her eggnog with some special Christmas magic that would cause a temporary lapse in judgement…I'll take it from there. All I want is a chance to prove to her that I'm worthy of her love… if she loves me at all. I promise I won't screw this one up, well, at least I'll try. All I need is a chance, so please, Santa, make me Gillian's ideal man._

_Sincerely,_

_Cal Lightman_

_P.S. Also, I am __still__ waiting for the train set I asked for when I was five. I was very polite and even mailed you a picture of the right set. But I'm willing to forget this little oversight of yours as well if you grant me my current wish._

She knew it. She'd always known that deep down Cal was a romantic at heart. He was a little rough around the edges but at the core he was big and cuddly teddy bear. If he was a diamond, he'd fought over by jewellers around the world. He must have been considerably intoxicated to sit down and write to a fictional figure he'd always derided. Either that, or he was literally doing anything to desperately avoid finishing his book. Judging from the lack of punctuation, spelling mistakes and grammatical errors it was probably the former.

Gillian took in a sharp breath. She felt like she'd read his secret diary. He _loved_ her. She read it again, just to make sure she hadn't imagined things, but these words in Cal's familiar scrawls let her heart flutter. It all made sense now. Last night, his visit, the book, the letter… it was all for her. It had always been her. Only her. She felt the tears well up in her eyes. She had no idea his feelings for her ran so deep. He obviously didn't want her to know or he would have told her last night. Maybe he didn't know how to tell her and was dropping hints all around him instead? He must have been carrying this letter around with him for days, if not weeks, judging by its crumpled nature. Oh God, she had violated his personal space in the worst possible way! He was going to kill her! He'd tried to act so casual about their commitment to each other in the morning, he must feel really vulnerable right now. Maybe he just wasn't ready to say it out loud? Maybe he still feared her rejection. She hadn't shown any signs of saying it out loud, either. But couldn't he read it on her face? Feel it in her touch? See it in her eyes? That he'll be the only one for her for the rest of her life?

The doorbell rang and shook her out of her reverie. She quickly brushed her tears aside and stuffed the letters in her back pocket. Suddenly she was glad she hadn't bothered to put any make up on or she'd be a mess. Bless Cal for making an off-handed comment about how much he liked her natural beauty last night, especially the freckles on her face without any make up on. Oh God, how was she supposed to act? What should she say? She wasn't supposed to know! She should have never read the bloody letter. He hadn't even given her the manuscript to read.

A loud knock accompanied by a worried, "Gill?" reminded her that he was still standing outside and she couldn't keep him waiting forever. And then suddenly she knew what she had to do. He loved her and nothing else mattered. He'd understand, he loved her. And to think she'd felt bad about not having gotten a gift for him, when all she had to do was give herself to him to make his wildest dreams come true! She flung the door open and launched herself into his arms. There was no stopping her anymore, they'd wasted too much time and danced around each other for too long. It was time to make nails with heads and if he was too scared to take the first step, she would. He'd been so startled by her outburst she immediately took advantage of his slightly agape mouth and slipped her tongue inside. Instinctively he pulled her a little closer, wrapping his arms around her back. Gillian's fingers had disappeared into his hair, pressing his head forward while her tongue danced hungrily around his.

He seemed taken by surprise a little bit and stepped back instinctively. "Wow! What did I do to earn this welcome?"

"I love you, too, you idiot!" The words bubbled out before she knew what she was saying. The idiot bit at the end might have been a bit unnecessary. He blinked his eyes at her blankly, she better kiss him again to drive her point across but he caught and stopped her.

"Oi! If that makes you cry love, we're in trouble!"

She shook her head and pressed her forehead against his. "I love you and you don't have to say it back if you're not ready but I want you to know that I love you and that nobody makes me happy like you do."

What the hell had happened in the few hours he'd been gone? And then suddenly his common sense kicked in. She'd just told him she loved him. Quick say something. Tell her you love her, too. Wait a moment, didn't she say she loved him _too_. He was pretty sure he hadn't said it last night because that would have been totally inappropriate. He didn't know much about women and understood even less about them, but even he had learned the hard way that you didn't tell a woman you loved her while you were trying to get into her pants. He wanted to wait for the perfect moment to tell her. Lay his heart bare before her, for Gillian to take.

"I…" Why wouldn't the words come across his lips? "What's with the tears, love?"

"They're happy tears, Cal, because you've touched my heart like no one else ever has", Gillian stressed and she ran her fingers through his hair on the back of his head. Cal closed his eyes in pleasure. It felt so good when she did that to him. He mentally shook his head, he had to get to the bottom of what had upset Gillian so much. He focused back on Gillian who continued, "You left your gift and…."

"You opened it, huh?" And suddenly he felt insecure again, "Did you like it? I wasn't sure you'd like it. I wanted to give it to you at the office party but then you got that bloody snow globe from Anna and I just _knew_ I'd look so stupid with my gift and then I thought on my way back home maybe I'll drop it off at your place and then I forgot about it because you kissed me and I kissed you and one thing led to another…" Gillian pressed her lips firmly against his mouth to stop Cal from talking.

"It was the _best_ Christmas gift I've ever received, Cal!" She hugged him tightly and mumbled against his skin, as she pressed her face deeper into his neck. She inhaled deeply, soaking up his scent. He smelled so good, a barely perceptible hint of aftershave; the rest was pure Cal Lightman.

Fingers. Hair. Lips. Cal's mind shut down. He kissed her passionately back as if his life depended on it. How was it possible that he craved her sweet lips like a parched soul chasing after a mirage in the desert after only one night with her?

"I take it you like it then?" Cal queried and a smile broke out on his face when he saw Gillian's beaming face. "I didn't really know what to get you and I tried really hard. You have no idea. I wanted to get you something special. You can ask Emily. I dragged her across the malls of Maryland and Virginia. I just couldn't find the right thing for you. I've been awful to you and you don't deserve it and I couldn't find the right words to apologise…" Cal blabbed on until Gillian put her finger across his lips.

"You're talking too much, Cal. Again." She returned his sheepish smile. "I get it. I really do."

"I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me because I really need you in my life Gill. I would be nothing without you."

"The shoebox…" Gillian realised and smiled. He beamed at her pleased she'd gotten his metaphor.

"Because we'd still be working out of a shoebox in my kitchen, if it weren't for you." Cal nodded with a grin. He rested his forehead against hers. "I love you, too, Gillian. I just didn't know how to tell you, so I thought I'd write it down…"

"It's ok, Cal. I know. I found your letter."

"No it's not ok because I want to tell you. I love you, Gillian. I love you so much it hurts to see you with other men. I can't go on the way we've been. It hurts me to see you sad and it devastated me to know that _I_ was the cause over the past months. Say you'll forgive me, yeah? Let's start over. Let's do it right, huh? No more lies, no more lines." He looked deeply into her eyes and groaned, "Oh god, here we go again, let me guess…happy tears?" Cal queried hopefully. She nodded. "Please, love, stop. It's all right. We're all right."

She bit her lower lip and hugged Cal tightly, "Then stop making me cry, Cal." He rolled his eyes, even though she couldn't see him. "And stop rolling your eyes at me."

"Oi!" Cal withdrew slightly from the embrace to watch her face, "So it's my fault now, that you're such a cry-baby?"

She nodded, "Of course; for someone who's not really good with words, you have an uncanny ability to say the sweetest things at the right time." She kissed him softly but Cal turned the heat up a notch. But then he suddenly broke the kiss and looked at her dumbfounded, "Wait a moment, what letter?"

Gillian stepped back and pulled the letters out of her pocket. When Cal recognised Emily's purple paper, he instinctively reached for the back pocket of his jeans but found it empty. He must have lost it last night. If the coat hadn't buffered his pat in the car, he would've realised back then that he'd lost Emily's Christmas letter.

"I can explain, Gill. She doesn't know what she says sometimes. You know my daughter; Em just likes to rattle my chains." He gently pushed her inside because the cold was slowly getting to him and Gillian wasn't dressed up warm like he was and he didn't want her to catch a cold. Besides, he'd rather talk about this with her quietly without the prying eyes of his daughter.

"Emily?"

Cal nodded and they both stared at the purple paper in her hands. Gillian shook her head slowly, "Cal, I didn't read Emily's letter. I'd never betray her privacy like that. I read yours!" That didn't come out any better.

Cal rose his eyebrows questioningly first at her admission that she had no qualms about violating his privacy but his daughter's was apparently sacrosanct. And then it dawned on him what she was referring to. He'd read Emily's letter late one night, after she'd gone to bed while he was brooding over his typewriter. He'd gone to pick up the plate of cookies and the glass of milk she'd left for "Santa" and scanned it. His throat dried up and he almost choked on the cookies, when he'd read her words. He returned the milk and cookies back to the kitchen and switched them for a fifth of scotch. He sat down and read Emily's letter to Santa, that is, to himself, again, but more carefully this time. No, his mind was not playing tricks on him. She'd really asked the impossible of him. Suddenly the Christmas where he had to relay the bad news from Santa to a five-year-old Emily that a pony could not live in her bedroom, even if she fed it daily, seemed like a walk in the park. She couldn't be serious, could she? He drank another fifth of scotch and another one and slightly tipsy pulled the empty leaf of paper out of the typewriter and started to scribble down his own letter to Santa. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to finally settle things for once and for all with the old fat man in a furry red suit…

His eyebrows creased into a deep furrow, which Gillian had absolutely no problem interpreting as a clear sign of worry. "Oh God, no! I'd completely forgotten I still had that one. Oh God, Gill, I was so drunk when I wrote that one."

"I've gathered that much", she looked at him slightly scolding. He shouldn't be drowning his sorrows so much in alcohol. "But you know what they say… drunks and children tell the truth…"

"Isn't that children and fools speak the truth?" He stepped in closer and trailed off.

"Same difference." She challenged him.

"Yeah, I suppose in my case that's the truth." he looked deeply into her eyes, "I really do love you, Gill, with all my heart. I meant it – every word I said…" He cringed, "Even if I don't clearly remember what I wrote." He leaned in and gave her a sweet but rather chaste kiss. When he pulled back, he saw something flicker across her eyes that had him instantly worried. "There. What was that?"

Gillian looked up at his panic stricken voice. "What was what?"

"That thought you just had! What did I do?"

"It's nothing, Cal", she started to brush aside her insecurities but then forged on with new-found strength, "no that's not true. I was worried, Cal. You're an hour late, what happened?" She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice so it wouldn't sound like an accusation to him.

"It's not what you think", Cal started immediately and led her into her living room. "Emily and I…well…" Cal sighed and motioned for her to sit down. "Things got a bit complicated."

"What happened? Did you and Zoë have a fight?" Did she sound relieved at the prospect that Cal and Zoë might have sparred verbally again? Oh my god, she felt like such a horrible person! "She's going to have a fit when she reads the book."

"Yes, but…" Cal sighed again and sat down next to her, "that's not really the problem. I made sure her chapter was longer than yours." Cal grinned.

"I don't understand, Cal?"

"We're late because I'm a horrible father and I hurt Emily and I had to fix that first."

"What did you do, Cal?" She looked at him sternly but the self-deprecating tone in Cal's voice had her more concerned than angry with him.

"It's not so much what I did do but what I didn't do." Cal let himself fall against the back of her couch. "I deceived her, well not really, but… you were right all along, of course, this constant back and forth between me and Zoë was really bad for Emily. Em realised tonight that we're not a family anymore."

"That's nonsense, Cal, of course you are a family!" Gillian interjected immediately. She didn't understand. What had happened? An hour ago Cal had shared with her that Emily was already ringing wedding bells and now she thought they weren't a family anymore?

"No, let me explain. Emily eavesdropped on us when I broke up with Zoë tonight." When she looked at him confused he explained, "Don't get upset but Zoë tried to put her moves on me so I told her she can't do that anymore because I'm together with you now."

Gillian started to check him for injuries worriedly. Cal laughed, as she gently patted his head to feel for bumps and flesh wounds. He caught her hands, "I'm fine. No dishes were thrown tonight, though I did get slapped once or twice – I've lost count over the years." He grinned and gave her a soft peck, "On our way over to your place Emily opened up to me about how hurt and upset she was. It just poured out, one thing after another, and I had to comfort her and I couldn't call. And we were already tardy because of the fight with Zoë. I'm sorry I didn't call to let you know what's going on. Poor thing was so confused and upset."

"It's ok." She ran her left hand through his temples and Cal nuzzled his face into her hand.

"Gill?" He peered up and when she acknowledged him with a soft "hm" he continued, "Promise me you won't doubt my fidelity. You know, I never betrayed Zoë, and I don't plan on doing that to you. I'm not going back to Zoë."

She pulled her hand back embarrassed she'd been so easy to read. She wanted to reprimand him for reading her again but he looked so tired. "Call next time, ok? I pictured you and Emily lying half dead at the roadside."

He nodded, "Gill, are we ok?"

She smiled and leaned down to kiss him softly, "Yeah. Is Emily ok with us, though?"

He smiled. She couldn't help herself. Always thinking of others before her own needs or desires. "Yeah, we talked. I think she'd just bottled everything up inside and had to get it out."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded and reached for the purple letter Gillian still clutched in her right hand. "If you don't believe me, trust her." She looked at him, insisting that she couldn't violate Emily's privacy. "Go on. She wouldn't mind, I'm sure", he encouraged her, "Go on, read it". Gillian unfolded the letter and read what the teenager wanted for Christmas.

_Dear Santa,_

_Dear Dad,_

_Let's cut the bullshit this year. I won't pretend you're Santa and I won't write you a long Christmas list of things I want but don't actually need. I worry about you, dad. You really have to get your act together or I won't be able to go to college with a clear conscience and some peace of mind. Maybe that's been your plan all along to keep me close by but I've got news for you, dad. I'll be leaving for college in a year whether you like it or not and the only difference it makes is whether I can concentrate on my classes or whether I'll be preoccupied with concerns about you. Don't you want to make leaving home even a __tad__ little bit easier for me?_

_If you had someone who makes you happy, I wouldn't have to worry about you moping around the house alone. I've got nightmares of you clutching my teddy bear, weeping and sleeping in my bed once I'm gone because the loneliness will overwhelm you. That's very creepy and totally freaking me out, so __please__ FIND SOMEONE WHO MAKES YOU HAPPY!_

_Seriously, dad, you have to. It's the only thing I want this Christmas. I think you and I know who it is but even if Gillian is not the right one for you, you have to promise me that you will keep looking for someone nice, for something stable. Someone better than Clara or Shazzer or that jewel thief Loker told me about. And unless you tell her, Gillian will never know you love her, so what the hell are you waiting for? And don't give me that crap about Gillian and you being "just friends". You're hopelessly in love with her and the sooner you admit it to yourself the better off we all will be. You dragged me through dozens of malls in the tri-state area in order to find "the perfect gift" for Gillian. Have you ever thought that __you__ might be the perfect gift for her? If you wait any longer you run the risk that she wakes up and realises that all the great guys out there are still available and she will leave you. Do you really want another Dave? Dad, you were miserable when she was seeing him. The signs are clear and they're all pointing in one direction, and that is that you love Gillian Foster and it's about damn time you told her or showed her or let her read it on your face muscles or whatever it is you do. Just DO __something__! Before you're too late…_

_I love you,_

_Emily_

_P.S. I know we said we'd do gift cards but… DSW has some really cute and super comfy snow boots in my size. They're from baretraps, the model is Elicia, the brown ones to lace up, and I need a size 7½. There I wrote it all down for you, you can't go wrong with this one! So now you have something to put underneath the Christmas tree, since you can't very well kidnap Gill and wrap her up and leave her there._

Gillian looked up into Cal's eyes. That was quite possibly the sweetest thing she'd ever read.

"She really loves you, you know" Cal assured her, "I think if there's anyone in the world she could pick for me it would be you. Actually I think it's gonna make the transition easier for Emily because I'm seeing you and not some stranger she might feel threatened by. We'll just take it slow, ok?"

"I'd like that. A lot actually. And not just because of Emily."

Cal nodded, "Are you ready for the Lightman Christmas Extravaganza?"

Gillian chuckled, "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Good, then let's get going before my daughter turns into an icicle." Cal pushed himself off the couch and held his hand out to pull up Gillian.

Gillian gasped shocked, "Oh my God, Cal. I'm so sorry, I completely forgot about Emily waiting in the car."

"It's okay, some females eat their young!' Cal deadpanned and Gillian slapped his shoulder.

Cal smiled at her reassuringly, "She's a big girl. I'm sure she knows how to turn on the heat, if she freezes." He picked up Gillian's bag and grabbed her hand, then they walked over to the car. Cal stowed the bag in the trunk, while Gillian opened the door to the passenger seat.

"Hi, Gillian" Emily greeted from the backseat, "did you have a nice Christmas Eve?"

Gillian shut the door with a shocked jar, unsure as to the nature of Emily's question. How much had Cal shared with his daughter on the way over? The older woman glanced at the younger girl through the rear view mirror and decided that it was intended as an innocent, polite and genuine inquiry.

"Yes. Your father stopped by and we watched some of the movies he got from Loker, I mean his Secret Santa."

"Gill?"

"Yeah?"

The tone in Emily's voice and the knowledge that the teenager was upset earlier about her parents breaking up for good made Gillian turn her head around and gaze intently at the teenager. Emily stared back unsure of what to say. She was pretty sure, the reason her father had shoved Gillian inside was her little break out earlier, to warn Gillian that she might be difficult over the holidays and give her an out in case she didn't want to deal with temper tantrums.

"I'm glad it's you."

"Thank you, Emily." Gillian smiled affectionately, "You know I'm not going to replace your mom."

"Yeah…whatever Dad told you inside…it's really not that big a deal. I guess I freaked him out a little bit earlier. I don't even know where it came from."

"Emily, don't ever apologise for how you feel, ok?" The younger girl nodded. "And promise me that if you ever feel uncomfortable with anything you tell your father. Or you'll come to me. We've always been good friends, haven't we? That's not going to change because I'm seeing your dad. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in your own home."

"Nah, I'm fine as long as you two don't play tonsil hockey in front of me." Emily grinned and Gillian shook her head. Of course, Emily would enjoy teasing her and Cal about the new romance in his life.

"Got it! No kissing in front of you." Gillian held up her hands in a scout gesture and decided to play the girl's game. "What about holding hands?"

Emily pretended to think for a minute, "Holding hands is ok, I guess. Hugs too, of course."

"Great, I like hugging your dad. He gives great big and comfortable bear hugs."

"I know. And he does that little grunt-moan thingy when he squeezes you." Emily grinned. Oh this would be great, she finally had someone to gossip about her father.

"Right." Gillian laughed.

Cal chose that moment to open the car door and watch the giggling women in his car. "Oi! You two've been talking about me, haven't you?"

"No", Emily and Gill chorused and broke out into another fit of laughter.

"I knew this was a mistake", Cal grumbled as he got behind the wheel and started the engine. He shook his head as he put in the reverse and slowly rolled down Gillian's drive way.

"Oh don't be such a Grinch, where's your Christmas spirit, Cal?" Gill leaned over the middle console and rested her chin on Cal's shoulder. He stopped and looked at the sweet face peering up at him.

He leaned down for a quick peck, "Right there," another peck, "Right there it is."

Emily grinned smugly from her backseat. Those two were just too cute together. Those fifty bucks were _so_ hers. She'd give them a year at best before they tied the knot. They were just adorable and so perfect for each other. When the adults broke apart and Cal pulled out into the road, she pulled herself into the middle space between the two front seats and called over their shoulders, "So … can I call you mom now?"

"_Emily_!" Cal and Gillian shouted simultaneously. Gillian whipped her head around and stared at the teenager in shock. Cal, who had to concentrate on the road, sent a sharp look into the rear view mirror telling his daughter to drop it.

"Gotcha!" A feral grin spread on the young girl's face.

"Em!" Cal said in a warning tone and groaned inwardly, knowing Emily was going to have her sweet little fun all week long torturing them with cheeky comments. And he was willing to take anything she threw at him as long as Gillian wouldn't get hurt in the process. His daughter couldn't know how touchy a subject motherhood was when it came to Gillian. He chanced a glance at Gillian who winked at him amused at his daughter's teenage antics. As a psychologist she knew all too well, that Emily would not leave out any chance presented over the holidays to get a rise out of him. Especially considering the relationship Cal and his daughter had.

"Just yankin' your chains." Emily proved their point and fell back into her seat with a satisfied smile, enjoying the adults squirming uncomfortably in their front seats. Mission accomplished. Who would have thought she'd spend her Christmas break with her father and Gillian together as a couple? This was going to be a great holiday.

And people said miracles happened no longer on Christmas!

_The End_.

_For now._

_Or is it?_

* * *

><p><em>AN: I want to thank everyone who's read and reviewed this story. This was a first for me because I incorporated some of the feedback I got and adjusted the story accordingly. I've never done that before and since I usually write my stories out completely before I post them, unfortunately it meant that large parts of this story had to be written, which resulted in longer draughts in between chapters (never mind the times when I can't connect to the fanfiction net server). Zoë's and Emily's reaction was one such afterthought - the final scene was one of the first I'd written for that story and I liked it so much I couldn't part with it, so I had to make Emily's transition believable and fit her insecurities organically into the overall story structure. This story was in many ways an experiment. I'm really glad the book chapter received such fantabulous feedback from so many people because this one had me worried the most because I was worried it departed too much from Cal's character. The drunk Christmas letter seemed so much more like him, don't you agree? I wanted to be original and fluffly and funny but not do the same Cal and Gill fall in love underneath the Christmas tree and live happily ever after story that's been done before - and while I'm sure a lot of people have had Cal gift Gillian his book for Christmas in their stories, I don't think anyone ever delved into his mind so deeply to actually try to write a chapter in his character. __Anyways, I hope I did the characters justice and my secret santa is pleased with the final result - and if y'all were entertained in the process all the better for it. Thanks for bearing with me in this endeavour._


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